Dragon's Blood
by The King of Ravens
Summary: Set in the war-torn plane of Tarkir, a young teenage Mardu named Kaldros discovers a dark secret that concerns the fate of the entire plane. Please note that this story is no longer running, as I have stopped updating it in order to write my current story - however feel free to read this one still.
1. Chapter 1

The atmosphere surrounding the camp, a mixture of anticipation and bloodthirsty hunger, appeared to Kaldros as waves of crimson and obsidian, mixing with the gently falling snow and becoming an amalgamation of glistening White, midnight Black and fiery Red.

_How apt, _thought the young warrior-mage, shivering and pulling the fur cloak tighter around him as he trudged through the Mardu war outpost, smiling as he remembered his twin's brash words about the cloaks their father had made for them in preparation for the excursion into Temur territory, Jakhan had scorned the usage of the capes, stating that: "True Mardu warriors have nothing to fear from the cold".

While that was perfectly true, and Kaldros could simply conjure a small flame to heat his cold limbs, the fourteen year-old wanted to conserve his energy as much as possible to ensure that he could fight at maximum efficiency in the coming battle – the inevitable fight that was sure to break out soon was Kaldros's, and many other Mardu youths' (including his brother's) Blooding, their first proper clash against warriors from other clans; after that came the Naming, where the surviving aspirants were given a permanent War-Name – a time of great honour for young Mardu warriors, as it signified their ascent into adulthood.

Kaldros was determined to earn an honourable War-name that would make his father and brother proud, as he would wear the name permanently, and earning a dishonourable War-name would shame his family and probably cause his father to lose favour with their Khan, the terrifying orc named Zurgo Helmsmasher. The young aspirant paced through the southern avenue of the camp, drinking in the auras of powerful emotions emanating from the clan warriors – it was exhilarating, the all consuming battle-hunger of the Mardu eclipsing every other thought and making his heart pound in anticipation, when he heard a loud shout of his own name.

Jakhan emerged from the corner of a row of tents, and immediately began running towards his brother. Kaldros's older fraternal twin wore the traditional armoured belt and leggings of Mardu warriors, leaving his muscular upper chest and arms completely bare and unprotected from the harsh cold of the Temur frontier.

Although the two had been born on the same day (Jakhan at noon and his younger brother in the late evening), it was easy to discern which of the twins was the eldest – Jakhan stood a full head taller than Kaldros, and while the mage was willowy and thin-boned, his brother was brawny and large.

Jakhan ran towards his brother, who simply stood still with his arms folded, lower lip stuck out slightly petulantly as the other teenager arrived. The rush Kaldros had felt earlier disappeared as he focussed back onto reality, leaving him feeling slightly hollow inside.

Kaldros's brother's tanned face was set in irritated anger, his wide cheekbones framing brown eyes that clearly showcased his hunger for a good fight. His square jaw was set in a dissaproving frown. He had short, black hair that was cropped close to his scalp, as Mardu who had not earned a War-name were prevented from wearing their hair as a topknot to signify that they were not yet adults. The young mage could tell that his brother was extremely annoyed from even without the fiery aura of barely-suppressed anger that swirled around him like a storm cloud.

"Where in dragon's name have you been Kaldros? I was looking all over the camp for you!" Jakhan almost shouted angrily at his twin. "The muster is starting. A small settlement of Temur has been spotted by our scouts. We need to get there fast if we can even have a small chance to get into the front of the army. What sort of an excuse have you got this time?"

Kaldros looked almost completely different to his brother, as although they shared the wide cheekbones reminiscent of their bloodline, the similarities ended there. The younger twin was an albino, with medium length, snowy white hair with a fringe that almost went over his left eye.

In spite of the fact that usually his wide-set eyes with red pupils (although the colour would often change when he invoked magic) and long eyelashes gave Kaldros an innocent, playful and mischievous look, Jakhan couldn't help but think that his brother appeared intensely displeased – not the same irritated displeasure that he felt knowing that there was little chance that the two would be at the forefront of the battle (where he was convinced that the greatest deeds were done), but more the sad disappointment when something beautiful was ruined.

"Well?" Jakhan growled, shoving his distracted brother, almost knocking him over as he forgot the large gap in physical strength between the two.

"You wouldn't understand, nor do you have the patience or intellect to listen to my explanations" spat Kaldros, before reigning in his irritation and softening his caustic tone,

"I reckon we could still make it to the muster before most of the army gets there, so we can get at the front of the battle, just like you said."

Jakhan grinned in anticipation and patted his brother on the back, Kaldros smiled back as the two made their way to the large area at the northern section of the camp, which was slowly filling up with warriors preparing for war.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to all those that read my first instalment of Dragon's Blood, this I my first Fanfiction so I would appreciate reviews to see if I am on the right track with this._

Azal Coldsword (a slightly derogatory War-name given to him as, unlike many Mardu warriors, Azal rarely got carried away in battle and ensured that he was able to command the rest of the warriors) paced slowly towards the baroque bone throne placed near to the edge of the ridge, the spinal cords arcing upwards from the back of the throne fittingly showcasing the seat's occupant as he surveyed the gathering of irregular Mardu warriors arrayed before him: squabbling youths, most barely into their teenage years, jostled for position at the front of the gathering; bloodthirsty orcs and sneaky goblins on the left flank of the mass; shouting men and women made up the bulk of the force at its centre; with horse-riders making up the right flank, their notoriously rebellious mounts snorting and pawing the ground.

The steam rising up from the collective breaths of the huge army shrouded the one on the throne in mist, although Azal knew very well who was seated there. As he approached and knelt next to the right hand of the throne, the figure on the left snorted derisively but was quickly silenced by a baleful glance of the throne's occupant – Zurgo Helmsmasher.

The monstrous orc radiated an air of absolute power, and those that dared to challenge it were brutally slain by the Khan of the Mardu, as he tolerated no dissent. The Khan sat with his powerful arms gripping the edge of the throne, and Azal had absolutely no doubt that Zurgo could simply crush the seat should he be so inclined. A deep, threatening voice like the sound of thousands of volcanoes erupting and pledging their allegiance to the Khan spoke suddenly as Azal finished kneeling.

"Have your scouts brought further news of the Temur force?" Azal stiffened slightly as the use of the word "your", as it signified that any failure would be his to bear alone – and failure was not tolerated by the Helmsmasher.

"They have reported an increase in the amount of Temur activity – it seems that another army has arrived to bolster the settlement," Azal grinned slightly,  
"More for us to kill."

"My thoughts exactly," the Khan snarled, turning his fiery eyes upon the figure stood at his left. The tall human named Carrok Warblade (named because of his recklessness and eagerness to fight) met his Khan's eyes for a second and then looked down. The two hands of Zurgo were the perfect counterpart to each other – whilst Azal was cold and calculating (by Mardu standards) due to his time spent as a Sultai captive, Carrok was impetuous and emotion-fuelled.

The two despised one another, and although Zurgo showed no open favouritism between them (it often seemed that he often enjoyed the altercations between to two), Carrok had been consulted more frequently after his victories securing the new expansion into Temur territory. Although younger than Azal, Carrok still had two sons – twins – one cast in the image of his father while the other was an enigmatic magic wielder. The fact that Azal had been unable to find a suitable woman to continue his bloodline proved a source of constant enjoyment for the brutish Mardu general.

The Khan's gruff voice interrupted his reverie, as he informed Carrok that he would have the honour of leading the battle. Although he expected as much, bitter disappointment still thrust its icy claws into Azal's pride, as the Khan began his speech.

"Mardu warriors," he shouted, the din from below the ridge instantly dying, as if sound itself bent before his draconian will as he paced purposefully towards the edge of the ridge. "Today we hunt."

And with that, the speech was over. It never failed to amaze Azal that his Khan could use so few words but evoke such a sense of absolute power and authority. Not for Zurgo were inspiring speeches, and the Mardu clan - _his _Mardu clan - respected that – why waste time with words when there was killing to be done?

A resounding war cry erupted from the crowd gathered below him, shaking the snow from the nearby mountains and making the air shudder with the force of the shout. Zurgo raised his arms and basked in the adoration of his warriors, adding his voice to the echoing bellow that slammed through the Temur Frontier. The Mardu were coming, and there was no hiding from them.

Kaldros ran alongside his brother and another aspirant, a fierce valkyrie called Atasha, famed in their training division for her brutal usage of a twin-bladed glaive with serrated edges. The mage himself held a slender short-sword that glinted in the flamelight emanating from the torches held by some of his unit of aspirants, as it was nearing night time – however there was no moonlight to illuminate the warband, the weak light eclipsed by the huge and brooding snow-clouds.

"What the clan leaders see in this depressing land is beyond me," Jakhan uttered quietly, the burly twin carrying a large, single-bladed axe that Kaldros was unable to even pick up (much to his brother's amusement), let alone swing.

"It is not about the land, you oaf, it is about the Temur themselves," sniggered Atasha "Do you really think that the Khan has any interest in this kind of territory?"

Although her words were harsh, Atasha was one of the few Mardu Kaldros could actually call friend, due to his disinterest in the constant posturing favoured by the others yet to earn a War-name – her wit also kept him entertained. However the young mage knew she was wrong this time, he could feel the rumble of power coursing through the earth. He stopped, suddenly, as he actually focussed onto the energy of the Temur territory. Placing his hand to the snow-covered ground, Kaldros could feel the unyielding strength of nature just waiting to be unleashed against these upstart interlopers. A sharp sting juddered through his small body, an emotion that he rarely felt but was welling up in abundance throughout his mind: fear. Kaldros recoiled from the ground, staggering backwards but falling over, his eyes, normally innocent and playful, were now consumed with despair.

_How can we fight against this? _The mage thought, _How can we defy nature itself?_

Jakhan, noticing his brother falling behind, snorted and yelled backwards

"Having trouble keeping up, little brother? Want me to carry you?" Jakhan often used the term "_Little brother"_, even though he was fully aware how much it irritated Kaldros. However when he turned around after the lack of sarcastic response and noticed the look in Kaldros's eyes, Jakhan instantly changed from posturing rival to caring brother, and ran back to the mage.

"Are you alright, Kaldros?" Jakhan knelt down and placed his large hands on his brother's thin shoulders, pulling him forwards, abruptly realising how bony and fragile his younger brother was, how unsuited for battle the mage would be. Jakhan imagined a world without his twin, finding it hollow and monotone without his brother's intellect and his wise personality coupled with his youthful playfulness. He resolved to protect his fraternal twin at all costs. As Jakhan was coming to this conclusion, another series of revelations were occurring in Kaldros's mind:

_This is just another challenge!_ He realised instantly – _Zurgo is trying to prove how powerful the Mardu really is by not just taking over Temur territory, by completely obliterating the resistance – if __the Mardu__ can defeat the Temur, the representation of the land itself, then the rest of the clans will have no choice but to fea__r us__. __We don't even need to destroy the Temur, as simply by defeating their mightiest army, the Mardu will do what every other clan has failed._

Steely determination clouded his eyes, and shrugging of his confused brother, Kaldros stood up.

"Thank you for your concern, dear brother, but I am fine," he held out a hand to Jakhan, who took it and rose to his feet, bemused as to his twin's sudden change in demeanour.

"Let's go and earn a worthy War-name, and make our father and clan proud!" Kaldros exclaimed, and Jakhan smiled, and in spite of the fact that he had no clue as the what just happened - he was proud of his brother, knowing that Kaldros had overcome whatever troubled him and that his twin had strength that he did not even understand, far beyond that of his fragile frame.


	3. Chapter 3

_This is the first of the Chapters describing the battle between the Temur and Mardu. As you can probably tell just by that sentence, I have literally no idea about what to write in this introductory section :) ._

The noise was deafening, the primal roar of the Mardu shaking the landscape, causing avalanches in the distance and making the air shudder around Quial Shockwing as he brought his mount further towards the ground, the large roc appearing as an almost invisible breath of wind to the non-magic wielders in the advance below him.

The concealment magic of the Mardu was amongst the best out of all the clans, many armies have thought they were leading the almost reckless Mardu into a trap only to be assaulted from all sides and from above by concealed warriors. Quial's roc screeched as another bird threatened to overtake them – Quial was given the honour of leading the skycharge by the Khan himself, and his mount understood that it was a grave insult for others to interfere with that.

He looked down at the over-eager softheels that ran at the front of the vanguard, all of them half-dreaming with thoughts of glory and honour, remembering the time when he was that idealistic about war. A slender, white haired aspirant looked up at the unit of roc riders and Quial grinned down at the mage, showing off with a 360 degree twirl and flying past the furthest unconcealed warrior, catching sight of their enemies hunkered down in the snow.

The Temur wore the signature heavy furs needed to survive life in the cold embrace of the Frontier, many carrying heavy axes and hammers that would usually be used to kill large creatures, but were now turned towards the slaying of the Mardu.

The battle was to take place in a huge, relatively open icy area that had a small copse of decrepit and straggly trees that would have trouble hiding a tiny mammal, much less an ambush force.

A band of large and rugged ainok lacking the precise discipline of the ones allied with the Abzan but making up for it in the increase in size and strength took their positions in the line of Temur troops. They reminded him of Kharkel, the dog man that led a renegade tribe of Mardu orcs and had struck some sort of bargain with Azal Coldsword, as Quial had caught a glimpse the two conferring when he was flying a different route to the one he normally took. Quial had no interest in scheming and so paid little heed to the two.

Focussing back onto the present, he sheathed the sword he carried on the scabbard at his waist and drew the longbow hanging from his back – when the order came to attack, he would target the shamans bound to be in the Temur force, as they would be able to see through the façade that the riders relied on heavily for protection. To this end, he ordered the rest of the riders to halt, leaving their mounts to slowly circle to keep them airborne but out the vision of the shamans.

The signal to start the archery bombardment was then given, a high pitched whistle that was proceeded by hundreds of Mardu equipping their bows and beginning to rain down arrows upon the Temur. In response, a huge pool of water at the foot of the troops was conjured by several shamans that had a blue glow around them. The water began rising upwards and solidifying into a titanic wall of ice.

Quial's heartbeat quickened as he realised that his chance for earning First Blood would soon disappear, his final chance to earn glory and honour within the clan. No longer would they call him a coward – they would respect him. Quial spurred his roc onwards, and the rest of the riders were duty-bound to follow. He drew an arrow, nocked it onto the bowstring and pulled it back, looking for a target.

_There! _He released the shot, an arrow arcing downwards and slamming into the throat of an exposed shaman; she knelt down, coughing, and then died.

"First blood!" he cried exultantly, but his humour soon died down as he noticed a Temur shaman, his posture bowed by the extreme amount of tribal fetishes attached to an enormous headpiece, far beyond the range of concealment detection, looking straight at him.

Panic consumed Quial as he heard an extremely loud crackle, like the sound of a bonfire being lit. He had a small moment to catch a glimpse of roughly half the shamans building the wall stepping back, Red mana coating their upturned palms. Then, a huge inferno of flame engulfed the roc riders in a massive explosion of scintillating red light, sending them plummeting to the ground like living, screaming meteorites. The pain of burning was ended mercifully quickly for Quial, and he slammed into the ice, splattering his and his mount's blood in a wide area, crimson viscera giving the frost a brutal sheen.

Azal ensured that his face was set in a grimace as he watched the roc riders smash into the ground, and although Quial had needed to die, the cunning Mardu felt a slight pang of sadness as he watched the majestic flying beasts murdered in such a dishonourable manner.

However, they had served their purpose, many more casualties being caused by the ground archers as the ice wall took longer to complete – eventually, the amount of shamans being slain forced the Temur to abandon the huge wall, instead each magic-wielder encased the nearby area in a protective bubble that, while still stopping the archers, did nothing to prevent the charging Mardu from soon coming to grips with them.

Azal considered it as killing two birds with one stone – he had predicted that the Temur would try a similar tactic to the one they utilised now, but the originally scheduled commander for the rocs would have not been as reckless as Quial.

To this end, Azal intercepted the slave carrying the message to the original commander, replacing it with his own message naming Quial as the leader. He knew that the impetuous fool would get himself killed, believing to be invincible with the merit of command, and thus would eliminate all traces of his meeting with Kharkel.

He ran alongside his Khan as the force spread out widthways, the softheels still in the front rank of the army as they were joined by their Named brethren.

Jakhan felt the heat waves buffet him as the majestic flames that had engulfed the riders simmered out of existence, instinctively moving in front of Kaldros to shield him, the young mage scowling at his brother's protectiveness.

The Temur force less than 200 strides away from them looked formidable to say the least, the protective bubbles of Blue and Green manner shimmering as the occasional arrow was bounced off them – for the most part the Mardu had opted to conserve ammunition for when the fight proper broke out, as the shamans would be forced to abandon these defensive tactics to aid in the killing.

The Mardu warriors continued charging, horsemen clattering past the softheels to form the spear-point that would break the Temur.

150 strides.

As the Mardu came closer, the Temur tensed, readying weapons for the inevitable slaughter to come.

100 strides.

Magi on both sides conjured auras to augment their brethren, the Temur shamans invoking their ancestors as natural Green energy flowed through the enemy warriors, whilst the Mardu warriors were blessed with a mix of defensive White enchantments and aggressive Red and Black sorcery. Jakhan could feel his twin's simultaneously familiar and alien magic encasing his muscular limbs in shielding plates whilst destructive power flowed around his axe, just as they had practised a few days earlier.

To the left of the aspirants was the terrifying Zurgo, the orc bellowing a challenge at a large figure flanked by two other Temur - one the Whisperer that had spelled the doom of Quial and the riders, the other a large ainok female with a torn ear. That made the figure in the middle Surrak Dragonclaw, Khan of the Temur, a towering human almost the same size as Zurgo himself.

50 strides.

Time slowed to a crawl as the Mardu screamed their hatred at the foe and the Temur responded in kind, the brothers' hearts pounding as they too shouted with the rest of their clan.

The Temur also started to run forwards, the two armies slamming into each other with a bone-crushing impact, many warriors shattered in that first, brutal impact.

A large Temur warrior wielding claws attached to his hands leapt at Jakhan who swung his axe in a wide axe, the preternatural speed given to him by Kaldros allowing him to strike first, bisecting the man and splaying his organs across the warrior behind him in a sickening arc of blood.

Another human stepped forwards to engage Jakhan, but the young warrior, galvanised by the his earlier kill, swept his axe around in an overhead arc. The Temur deflected the blow slightly off target and sidestepped it, stabbing the sword into Jakhan's side. The Mardu felt the enchantments of his brother smash apart under the impact but he was unscathed, and shoulder-barged his opponent backwards as a serrated blade swung downwards and decapitated the man. Atasha smirked viciously at him and swiftly turned to find another opponent.

They were certainly not in low supply. The battle had lost all sense of cohesion, Temur and Mardu desperate to murder and maim one another as the battlelines mixed together. Huge loxodon brawled with brutish, unchained ogres in titanic displays of raw power, enigmatic and elegant windfolk duelled with deceitful goblins, orcs and ainok clawed and brutally savaged each other and shamans on both sides flung incandescent spells into the masses in dazzling parades of destructive force.

_Speaking of mages, _Jakhan thought as he used a short moment bereft of violence to attempt to locate his brother. It was not a difficult task, as Kaldros was surrounded by circling energies as he battled another Temur shaman, the Whisperer conjuring up icy shards and launching them at the younger twin. Kaldros seemed to almost sigh contemptuously as a wall of blinding flame rose up around him and melted the onrushing projectiles. Before the enemy shaman had time to react, Kaldros had leapt forwards on ethereal wings and fired a bolt of annihilating flame at extremely close range, incinerating the Temur.

Jakhan had known that his brother was a gifted mage due to the way the other shamans spoke of him, but to see that power in action was astounding. He felt proud of his younger brother but also slightly jealous – however he did not have long to ruminate on this feeling of envy as a huge bear lead by another Temur charged at him.


	4. Chapter 4

For the first time in a long while, Kaldros felt truly alive. Finally being able to harness the full extent of his powers was exhilarating, magical energies flowing through his veins and bending to his will, becoming a greater weapon than anything forged by blacksmiths. Jumping backwards on ethereal wings, the young mage saw a group of Temur heading towards the softheels' position and flew towards them.

He tapped into the mana reserves lock away in his mind as crackling white lightning wrapped itself around his arm. Too late, the Temur realised their impending doom, looking upwards as coruscating bolts of electricity charred the flesh from the closet's bones. It then bounced between them, leaving a heap of sparking skeletons that were soon crushed underfoot as some Mardu youths charged over them. Although Kaldros did not enjoy killing, finding it to be a brutal necessity, he was enticed by the intoxicating feeling of wielding his magic to its fullest extent.

Kaldros then looked for his brother's familiar aura, and spied him in a desperate fight against a gigantic bear and a Temur that in any other clan would have been its handler, but in the Frontier it was its friend. The mage felt a pang of shock as Jakhan evaded the sword swing of the human but was caught by one of the ursine's huge claws. He was knocked backwards, blood pouring from a long gash on his exposed chest. Desperate to help his twin, Kaldros urgently flew in his direction as a vine wrapped itself around his leg.

Yelping in surprise, Kaldros was flung downwards face first, wildly trying to fly away and thrashing desperately. He hit the ground with a loud crunch, knocking the breath out of him but leaving the mage relatively unscathed. Kaldros had landed on his wings, the impact breaking them beyond further use – the mage didn't have the time to summon himself a new pair as the vine tightened around his leg, thorns gouging into his soft skin.

Ignoring the pain, he focussed onto his rage as purifying flames surrounded his body, healing him whilst also burning the root encircling his left leg. Pushing himself to his feet, Kaldros dropped to the ground as he sensed an incoming blow. Missing his head by centimetres, the axe was reversed and swung back at the Mardu, who infused his short-sword with corrosive Black mana and blocked the attack, cleaving the huge axehead apart.

Rolling to his feet, Kaldros finally got a good look at his opponents. A young Temur male, only a few years older than the mage himself and of a similar build to his own brother stood a few feet from him, baring his claw-weapons in anticipation. Further backwards was a Whisperer, her eyes hooded by a huge headpiece and channelling mana in preparation for another spell. Kaldros assumed that it was her that had ended his flight.

_This is going to be a challenge, _the mage thought, smiling grimly.

.*.*.*.

Jakhan heard his brother's cry of pain, and wanted nothing more than to run to Kaldros and protect him, fight side by side as they were supposed to, however that was not entirely feasible at the moment. He gritted his teeth – whatever mess Kaldros had got himself into, he would have to get out of it himself, as the older twin currently had more pressing concerns to handle.

The large bear snarled at him as he dodged a swipe of its huge claws, the pain in his chest intensifying as he twisted round to block the sword of the man. Jakhan swung his axe at the bear, eliciting a bestial roar as it sliced down its side. He then sidestepped the bear's wild counter-attack and feinted at it, causing the man to rush to his companion's aid, sword cutting the cold air in a wide arc. The twin sons of Carrok were both exceptional – Kaldros possessed huge amounts of magical energy, however Jakhan had immense physical strength.

He managed to halt his forward momentum that he had built up in the feint against the bear, and spun around in an incredible feat of strength, slamming the axe into the Temur and smashing his ribcage apart in an explosion of blood and bone fragments.

The Temur's bear companion, blinded by rage charged at Jakhan, but a well placed arrow hit it behind the ear and stabbed into its brain, killing it instantly.

Daciak, another softheel with some skill in the art of Dakla, the Way of the Bow, waved at Jakhan, the tall archer's brown eyes highlighting his sense of victory. Although Jakhan had no particular liking of the aspirant, as they had often come to blows when Daciak used to bully Kaldros, he was immensely grateful and waved back.

A shadow appeared behind the youthful archer, and Jakhan cried out in surprise as an imposing loxodon seemingly materialised out of the snow, the concealment magic catching them unaware without a mage to see through the deception. Daciak tried to run, screaming as a hammer larger than him was brought down, crushing the poor softheel to a bloody pulp. The brown-furred elephant-man trumpeted to announce its victory, the braying sound like a brass announcement of incoming death and turned its gaze upon Jakhan.

.*.*.*.

The gargantuan snow-horn trampled through Mardu lines, goblins and humans too small to stop it were flung into the air, crushed underfoot or gored to death on blood-slick horns. The charge was angled straight towards the large white orc situated in the centre of the battle-line. Carrok Warblade's mouth gaped open at the sheer stupidity or absolute bravery of the rider of the snow-horn – for who except the exceptionally powerful would dare to charge at the terrifying Khan of the Mardu.

Zurgo laughed bloodthirstily, the deep-throated sound causing Carrok's hair to stand on edge, and paced forwards, malice in his eyes. Sheathing his sword, the Khan ran at the snow-horn and intercepted its charge, wrapping his hands around the two horns and halting it in his tracks. Tensing, the imposing orc pulled outwards, tearing the furred mount in half and tossing the huge remains aside. The rider of the mount was thrown into the air and landed amongst a swarm of vicious goblins that stabbed repeatedly with poisoned blades, the man's scream masked by the horrifying roar let loose by the Khan. It split the air, the war-shout inspiring the Mardu to greater feats of bravery as they realised how much favour they could gain with their Khan watching.

In reality, Zurgo paid little attention to the rest of the battle, his gaze fixed on the rugged human in the distance.

"We are winning, my Khan," Azal quipped, and despite the fact that Carrok detested the other hand of Zurgo, he was forced to agree with the assessment. The Warblade scanned the battle-lines for his two sons, hoping they would survive the engagement and earn a great War-name for themselves. He beamed with parental pride as he saw Jakhan taking down a Temur warrior and his bear with another aspirant, his eldest son reminding him of himself in his younger years. He felt a pang of guilt as he watched Kaldros facing off two Temur, one another Whisperer, by himself wishing he could come to the aid of his son.

When he looked at Kaldros, an image of Cerelis popped into his head, a perfectly shaped woman with amber eyes and golden-white hair, that he quickly crushed. His beautiful wife had given birth the Jakhan at the noon of that day fourteen years ago perfectly fine, but after ten hours of unrelenting pain, she finally gave birth to Kaldros as well, and died.

For the first twelve years of Kaldros's life, he was consumed by grief at his perfect wife's passing, and as such ignored the young healer (as he once was), as looking at him reminded Carrok of Cerelis, and the father of the twins could not help but think that had only Jakhan been born, then Cerelis would have survived. Because of this, coupled with the fact that Jakhan excelled at the traditional aspects of Mardu warfare and was a model son, made Carrok reluctant to interact with his youngest.

Only two years ago, after a certain incident, he realised that shunning his son was insulting the memory of his wife, and resolved to act as a loving father. However, when he went to apologise to Kaldros, who was meditating on his own, the young mage had almost killed him, and said: "If you wanted to be my father, you should have started a long time ago".

Jakhan had told him to go slowly with his brother, stating that he probably found it difficult to accept Carrok into his life so suddenly.

"Are you ignoring me, you imbecile?" Azal growled at him, hatred prominent in his cold blue eyes.

"Anything coming out of your mouth is not worth listening to, worm" Carrok snarled back.

"You dare-" Azal shouted, stepping threateningly towards Carrok, who glared back.

"**Enough!**" roared Zurgo, immediately silencing his squabbling generals.

"The only reason we have the upper hand is because that bastard Surrak has not committed himself to the fight yet" the Khan laughed maliciously, "I intend to change that."

He then raised his voice: "Mardu, I need to fight the Temur Khan and claim his head for the glory of the clan. You must forge a path for me so that we can win this war. Glory and honour awaits!"

"Glory and honour! For the Khan and the clan!" cried the amalgamation of warriors next to Zurgo – his elite guard was composed of humans and orc veterans, exemplary fighters representing the pinnacle of Mardu ideals. They charged at the Temur in front of Surrak, cutting them down whilst sustaining heavy losses because of their reckless devotion to their Khan.

Zurgo ran at Surrak, drawing his sword and slicing it downwards to be blocked by the haft of Surrak's spear, cracking the ground underneath him. Surrak snarled at the Mardu Khan, his small eyes brimming with hatred and determination to protect his people.

Zurgo pulled backwards and stabbed his sword forwards while also charging up Red mana is his left fist, throwing a flaming punch after the Temur smashed his blade away. Surrak grimaced and took the blow to his chest, charring the flesh as he pushed his elbow downwards and brought his knee up, smashing Zurgo's face into the leather. Reeling, the Mardu Khan managed to dodge a spear-thrust and wrapped his biceps around it, muscles bulging as he snapped the spear in half and tossed the broken pieces aside.

Both of the giants circled one another, chests heaving – it was very rare that either of them were matched against of foe of similar power.

Zurgo spat blood and growled: "Do you remember Battle of the Staircase?"

Surrak refused to waste breath talking to the enemy and rushed at Zurgo, Green magic flowing around his limbs and augmenting his already god-like strength. Zurgo blocked a punch that could murder bears, and grabbed the Temur Khan's wrists, their muscles tensing as they matched in strength, the Green mana enchanting Surrak equalled by the auras of White and Black surrounding Zurgo.

"I was a simple Hordechief at the time, and barely escaped with my life. You fought with Kaijar Bonebreaker, the current Khan, who also escaped."

Zurgo tightened his grip around Surrak's wrists – the Temur Khan slammed his knee into the Mardu's abdomen and threw him backwards.

"He was weak, and because of that, the Mardu were weak. I killed him with my bare hands, and with me as Khan, the Mardu are strong again!" Zurgo smiled maliciously.

"However, he would like to say hello again," reaching into a flap in his armour, Zurgo pulled out a bleached human skull with a huge dent in the middle of it. He tossed it at Surrak, who smashed it aside – but the damage had been done. Titanic amounts of Black mana exploded from the skull, specially prepared by Azal with the help of shamans – with his knowledge of Sultai poisons coupled with their rage-fuelled magic, the Black enchantments were immensely powerful.

Surrak staggered, distracted for a brief moment as the Green mana around him sought to prevent the poisons from killing him, and Zurgo, quick as a flash, smacked his fist against the Temur Khan's head, knocking him onto the ground.

The Dragonclaw's vision blurred because of the violent concussion, and he was only dimly aware of the Mardu Khan walking slowly towards him. He tried to move, but the debilitating effects of the poisons slowed his movements as Zurgo rammed his foot into his face. Blood spurted from the wound as Surrak slid across the ice, and the Helmsmasher wasted no time, retrieving his sword from the ground and running at him.

"You should..." Surrak coughed up blood, "Pay attention to the wider battle."

Zurgo ignored him and swung his sword downwards in a vicious arc. An arrow flew from the distance, stabbing into the Khan's forearm and instantly freezing it in a block of ice, the Blue magic stopping Zurgo for a second as he melted it with his rage, but a second was long enough. A female Temur, carrying a bow on her back and wielding a hatchet shimmering with tricolour Temur magic appeared in front of Zurgo and deflected his second swing. A trio of Whisperers also teleported in alongside her in a flash of Blue mana, blocking the Mardu Khan off from their own. Yet more soldiers appeared around the Helmsmasher, loxodon and ainok taking up positions and surrounding the Khan. Zurgo roared at the sky in rage.

.*.*.*.

Kaldros blocked the older boy's swipe of his claws on a conjured shield of White mana while jumping backwards to avoid snaking tendrils of plant-life that launched themselves at him. He scoured the ground with death magic, eliminating some of the questing vines whilst yet more were animated by the shaman standing around 10 metres away from him.

_I need to get them away from me,_ Kaldros thought, so he harnessed Red mana and released it around him, an explosion of fire radiating outwards from him.

As the mage intended for the flames to only buy him a few seconds of time, he was caught unaware when the Temur adolescent, shielded by Blue mana turning the fire into steam, grabbed his thin arms and yanked him out of his protective flames and elbowing him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. His attacker wrapped his arms around him, crushing him in a tight bear-hug which stopped his movements and starved the oxygen from his lungs.

Kaldros responded desperately, a huge lance of White light impaling the Temur and killing him before the Whisperer could protect him – however the large corpse fell on him, trapping him for a few seconds.

A ponderous vine encircled his forearm, thorns enchanted with Blue mana nullifying attempts to cast spells but also slowing its movements dramatically and drawing blood as they punctured his skin. Kaldros was dragged off his feet as yet more vines, most of them the faster, normal version, snaked around him.

Kaldros looked across the battlefield, which was still filled with clashing warriors – unlike earlier however, the engagement was definitely in the Temur's favour. Shock was his first response as he noticed something that had changed dramatically over the course of the battle. The copse of decrepit trees that the Mardu had dismissed was actually a huge forest – concealment magic on a vast scale had been used to hide not just warriors, but even the terrain itself. From the forest emerged a huge amount of Temur troops, the ambushers crashing into the Mardu lines as the battle slowly devolved into a route. He could see Mardu being slain on a vast scale, something distinctly alien to his young mind.

A vine wrapped around his throat, Kaldros releasing a strangled shriek of pain as the thorns dug into his neck, blood running down him and dripping onto the ice.

Terror flooded through his mind, the cold realisation that they were all going to die paralysing him in fear.

The young mage could see the Khan surrounded and beset on all sides by Temur attackers, snarling in frustrated rage at them.

Kaldros saw his brother battling frantically against a huge loxodon, the mammoth whacking him across the icy ground and stomping forwards to the downed Jakhan, hammer twirling in his furred hands.

He saw Atasha fighting against a large ainok – the Temur hacked the girl's leg and weapon arm off and shoved his snout into her stomach, teeth chewing into her as she screamed in horrified pain.

As the girl was devoured screaming and the vines tightened around his throat, Kaldros shut himself off from the noise and the pain, retreating inside himself. His mind was not safe either, Atasha's desperate cries penetrating the sanctuary he built for himself.

And then suddenly, Kaldros snapped.


	5. Chapter 5

_Wingthrone, the Mardu fortress - two years ago._

_Kaldros sighed despairingly at his older brother, who entered the room quietly, Jakhan futilely trying not to wake up Kaldros as he slipped into the bed beside him._

"_You should really try to stop getting into fights, Jakhan," Kaldros spoke softly, still making his twin jump as he had assumed that Kaldros was still asleep._

"_It's not my fault!" Jakhan yelled angrily, "He started it. He insulted you and dad"_

"_Who was it this time?" Kaldros asked, sitting up in the bed and putting his small arm around his brother's large shoulders. Jakhan had the muscular body of a young adult but still had the mind of a twelve year old boy – one that often got into fights._

"_You're not my dad," Jakhan snarled, shrugging off his brother._

"_No, but I still care about you – don't worry, I won't tell him," Kaldros smiled and Jakhan finally turned around to look at him. The older twin had bruises all over his face, including a black eye that throbbed painfully. _

"_Daciak, he insulted you and dad, so I punched him and we started to have a fight," Jakhan's eyes fell, "I lost."_

"_Let me see to you," Kaldros moved closer, soothing White mana flowing from his palm._

"_No!" Jakhan shouted, shoving his twin away from him. Kaldros fell off the bed and whacked his head on the wall._

"_Ow!" he shouted, "What was that for?"_

"_Sorry! Sometimes I forget how strong I am compared to you, little brother. Anyway, I can't always rely on you to patch me up. When we go to battle, you won't be able to help me."_

"_Don't call me that," Kaldros snarled._

"_Why not?" Jakhan teased, moving towards his twin and grabbing his thin arms, Jakhan's large hands fully encircling even the upper biceps. He held Kaldros's arms against his body, preventing his twin from moving._

"_I'm bigger, stronger and older than you," he said, giggling as Kaldros tried to get him off, increasing the pressure of his grip._

"_Stop it Jakhan, you're hurting me!" Kaldros yelled. His brother released him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer in a brotherly hug._

"_I love you, little brother," Jakhan said, smiling._

_Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a large figure wearing bloodstained armour that glinted in the moonlight ran in._

"_Father? You're home already? You said you had to be out all night," Jakhan inquired as the figure sped forwards and as Jakhan let go of his twin and turned around, the figure punched him in the face._

"_Jakhan!" screamed Kaldros as his brother fell onto the floor, unconscious. The figure, now clearly an orc with a manic look in his eyes, grabbed the struggling Kaldros and pushed a clammy hand over his mouth, muffling the boy's yells as he ran out of the house. The Wingthrone was one of the few permanent Mardu settlements, a large citadel with mostly used for the labour class to manufacture weaponry for the Horde. As his kidnapper ran through the empty streets, Kaldros thrashed violently, throwing kicks into the orc's hard, leathery flesh. He quickly deduced that the show of resistance was nothing more than that, and wasn't affecting the orc. Kaldros soon worked out that he was chosen to be abducted as he was the weaker of the two, but to what end?_

"_Stop, traitor!" A loud bellow rang through the quiet streets, the orc freezing in place as Kaldros twisted to see who had shouted. A small contingent of Mardu stood, blocking their path – the boy recognised Azal Coldsword, right hand of the Khan himself and next to him stood his own father, Carrok Warblade._

"_Move any closer, and I'll kill the boy," the orc hissed, pulling Kaldros into view and placing a serrated blade at his throat. Kaldros saw the recognition in his father's eyes, although he expected no help from him – Carrok shunned his youngest son for reasons he did not even know, although the twin assumed it had something to do with how unsuited he was for physical violence and how his brother excelled at it, much like his father. He then registered that the only reason he had been taken was to simply act as an insurance policy._

"_Do it then," Azal goaded, stepping closer to the orc, who growled and pressed the blade closer into the terrified boy's throat, the sharp edge drawing blood which dripped slowly onto the ground. Kaldros whimpered slightly pathetically as he realised he would die if the soldiers didn't help him._

_Carrok look scared and surprised in equal measure, the general stunned and unable to react as the image of his youngest son in mortal danger interspersed with that of Cerelis screaming in pain._

"_Go on. It matters not to me that a soft-heel dies," his voice dripping with malice, Azal was fully aware of Kaldros's relation to Carrok and seemed to simply not care._

_The orc shrieked in fury and violently drew his blade across the boy's throat, blood spurting out of the gaping wound as Carrok, snapped out his reverie, shouted in sadness and rage._

_Then, a small explosion of pure mana radiated out of Kaldros's body, utterly erasing the orc from existence and blinding the guards. Shielding their eyes from the unrelenting light, they were knocked backwards against the walls of nearby buildings._

_.*.*.*._

_When Carrok awoke, there was no sign of his son or the assailant, and the rest of the guards were still unconscious. It was still the dead of night, other soldiers apparently unaware of what just happened. Carrok somehow knew that his son was still alive and also knew where he had gone – a small cave in the nearby mountains overlooking a peaceful waterfall outside of Wingthrone. He could only describe it as a parental feeling of just _knowing _that his son was safe._

_The Warblade had followed his youngest son there on numerous occasions, wanting to apologise for his behaviour but finding himself unable to do so, every time he had left feeling disgusted with himself. Now he knew he had no choice, trying to plan what he should say as he ran the short journey to his son's sanctuary._

_Panting for breath, he arrived at the entrance to the cave and saw his youngest son simply sat on the cave floor, his eyes shut. _

"_Kaldros, you're alright," Carrok exclaimed, feeling relieved that his belief in his son's survival was true._

_The boy's eyes snapped open in surprise and he backed away from his father, snarling: "What do you want?"_

"_I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Carrok replied._

"_No thanks to you."_

_Carrok had expected his son to be annoyed, but what he had to say couldn't wait any longer._

"_Kaldros, I don't know what to say, other than, I'm sorry," he moved closer to his younger son, tears falling down his face as he finally said what he should of said years ago._

"_I was an idiot, too blinded by my own grief at your mother's death to realise that she had given me not one, but two amazing sons. Kaldros, I love you," Carrok walked forwards, arms held outwards and ready to embrace his son._

_Kaldros roared in rage and flung his hands forwards, tendrils of the purest darkness shooting out and wrapping around the stunned Carrok, pain blossoming on every part of his body._

"_You think you can just come in here after all these years, professing to be sorry, and think that I'll just forgive you and we'll just forget about all the years of pain you caused me? Pathetic" Kaldros spat threateningly._

"_I'm not expecting you to forgive me-" Carrok spoke through the immense pain._

"_SHUT UP!" Kaldros howled in anger, the agony intensifying throughout his father's body. Kaldros slumped down, the magic dissipating, releasing Carrok who fell to the floor as tears ran down his young face. _

_Despair inflecting his voice, Kaldros said "If you wanted to be my father, you should have started a long time ago."_

_He stood up and trudged towards the exit, shouting back to his unmoving father: "I'm going to go check on Jakhan, he was knocked unconscious. You're welcome to join me," and left._

_.*.*.*._

Jakhan heard his brother's unearthly scream and could feel the ground shaking with violent energies, immense amounts of mana being released every second by his brother. The loxodon charging at him vaporised instantly, as did most of the Temur surrounding Kaldros.

The mage fell to the ground, released by the vines pulling him apart as they were incinerated, mana rushing wildly around him, obliterating and cracking the land. The aspirant flew upwards on blinding wings, flame-bolts firing indiscriminately into both Mardu and Temur as White and Black mana coalesced around the teenager. A group of Whisperers attempted to stop him, claws of fire curving through the air towards Kaldros, who simply raised his hand, the defensive White mana stifling the flames as a beam of golden energy shot out of Kaldros's palm, ending the shamans.

Kaldros howled in unnatural anger as nine coils divided into three colours of mana (Red, Black and White) burst out of him, wrapping around each other. The clouds, which had been languidly depositing snow over the battlefield now turned red and furious. Jakhan felt a small splash on his right arm, and saw a splatter of crimson blood, much lighter and more vivid than the viscera that already coated him.

He felt more claret liquid land on him and looked upwards, gore raining down from the angry clouds. Pale lightning flashed, as the scarlet ichor coated everything, turning the whole battlefield into multiple shades of red.

Jakhan was passed by a fleeing orc but paid absolutely no heed, his attention captured by the horrendous things his brother had created. Kaldros fell to the ground, his magical reservoir completely depleted, but the damage had been done.

Three Butchers of the Horde glared down at the battlefield, each one borne aloft on four flayed wings and holding no weaponry – they had no need of it. Jakhan had heard stories of them from the old shamans, involving arrogant and youthful shamans sacrificing their lives to summon just one Butcher. That his brother had summoned three was astounding, even more so if he survived. Jakhan spied his twin laying flat on the bloodstained ground and ran towards him.

As he neared his brother, one of the Butchers landed in front of him. It reeked of death, and as Jakhan looked into its black eyes, he saw visions of extreme violence – _he __is__ in a field, walking in the long grass when his foot bump__s__ into something solid. He look__s__ downwards, horrified at the sight __that__ await__s__ him; a hole in the ground that __is filled to the brim with flayed corpses looking at him with dead eyes._

_He is in an Abzan city, the high walls surrounding the talking civilians. They think they are safe, that their army will protect them, but nothing can stop this foe. A gargantuan tidal wave of blood rushes over the ramparts, drowning thousands of innocent people. The blood crashes past him and Jakhan is submerged, gasping for breath as the crimson liquid rushes down his throat._

_He is in his house at Wingthrone, his twin brother sat across from him. Jakhan punches him in the face, blood spurting out of his nose as Kaldros cries in pain. He picks his brother up by the throat with both hands, lifting the thrashing boy off the ground and slamming him against the wall. He can feel his brother's small and weak hands attempting to pull Jakhan off his throat. He wants nothing more than to squeeze until his twin dies and laughs as he sees the scared panic in his eyes._

No_, thinks Jakhan, _This is not real!

Jakhan snapped back into reality, still looking into the eyes of the Butcher, which immediately flew off to join its brethren as they smashed into the Temur lines. He ran to his brother's side, the young mage unconscious. Jakhan picked him up off the ground and hoisted Kaldros onto his back, wrapping his thin arms around his own neck and lifting up Kaldros's legs in a piggy-back like position. He turned to look at the Butchers – they were reaping a great tally amongst the Temur, but were woefully outnumbered and would soon be brought down.

Meanwhile, there was still a large amount of Temur not distracted by the Butchers, and they charged after the fleeing Mardu now that the obstacle Kaldros's magic created had gone. Thousands of Horde warriors were cut down in the rout, many ainok going mad with battlerage and stopping to feast on the corpses. Jakhan would have ran with the rest of his clan but their path was cut off by Temur warriors chasing down their foes.

The burly youth saw a gap in the Temur lines – the forest from which the ambushers had originated. If Jakhan could remember his geography correctly, following a river in there would probably lead the brothers to Sarashak, a neutral trading city with regular visitors of Jeskai, Sultai and Abzan traders. While not exactly safe, it would provide them with a place to stay away from the vengeful Temur. Jakhan almost asked his brother for his thoughts on the manner, before remembering that he was still unconscious. Despite the risk that it may not even still be there, Jakhan decided that Sarashak was the safest place to go, so set off quickly on that route, noticing some of the Temur breaking off to chase them down.

.*.*.*.

The Butchers crashed into the Temur, forcing the clansmen surrounding Zurgo to break off to deal with this huge threat, leaving the Khan roaring his defiance at them. Setting off to chase them down, Zurgo almost killed Azal when the human placed his hand on his waist.

"My Khan, please!" the Coldsword practically begged, "We have to leave while the Butchers distract the enemy"

"...", the Khan did not reply at first, but then roared in frustration at how close he was to murdering Surrak, the man who had caused his clan the most shame out of any other living being.

"Fine! We shall flee for now, but mark my words: We will return, and then we shall scour the Temur off the face of Tarkir!" he bellowed.

"My Khan?" Carrok spoke aloud for the first time since his argument with Azal, "there is something I must do first."

"I understand," said the Khan, "Go to your sons. But know this – should you return, you will be stripped of rank and become a member of the labour class for abandoning your Khan in battle. Are you still sure about this?"

"Definitely, my lord,"  
Azal had to physically restrain himself to prevent him from bursting out in laughter - this was too easy!

Carrok ran to where he could see his sons fleeing towards the forest – he would intercept them in a couple of hours, hopefully before the Temur got to them.


	6. Chapter 6

Kaldros trudged through the mud, the vast expanse looming ahead of him seemingly never-ending. He was soaked, the perpetual rain coating everything in a thin sheen of clear liquid and making the soft ground squelch under his footsteps. He tried to conjure some magic, but found that he lacked even the smallest drop of mana.

Suddenly, he spied another figure walking through the mud, tall and pale, wearing a long black coat with grey etchings. The figure had white hair and golden eyes – an albino like Kaldros – and his patrician features were set in a display of shock, his hand suddenly flashing to the longsword of strange design sheathed at his waist.

Kaldros attempted to call out to the person, but no sounds emitted from his mouth. He tried to run towards him, but tripped over and fell face first into the mud.

Kaldros began to sink, slowly at first, but increasing in speed the lower he got. He thrashed, attempting to rise to his feet, but the mud stuck fast to him, weighing his normally light body down. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and hauled him upwards, face to face with the mysterious figure.

His lips moved in a shout, but Kaldros couldn't hear anything past the constant splash of rain. The figure shook him violently, and the young mage couldn't help but notice the sharp fangs in his mouth – he tried to pull away but the figure held him still, continuing to shout despite the silence of his voice. He pulled out something from his pocket – a silver pendant in the shape of a collar, with a straight line coming off from the bottom and two diagonal silver pieces with horizontal lines attached to them also.

The mysterious, fanged person then pressed the pendant into Kaldros's hand, still speaking to the young mage. He released Kaldros and stood up, nodding at him, the boy looking back with a confused expression.

.*.*.*.

The dream ended abruptly, fading from memory as Kaldros instinctively thrust forwards, ramming his face into his brother's muscled back, which caused Jakhan to laugh in surprise.

"So you're finally awake then?" his brother asked, continuing to carry him at a fast pace through an enclosing forest. Kaldros looked around him, seeing a snowy woodland with huge trees that stretched up many metres.

"What...Where?" he tried to ask, his throat raw like he had been screaming for hours on end. He remembered being choked by the vines and Atasha's haunting shrieks, but beyond that, nothing. The battle was clearly over, otherwise his brother wouldn't be running away – Jakhan was extremely stubborn and refused to give up at anything.

"We are heading towards Sarashak – you remember learning about that, don't you? We lost the battle after the Temur ambushed us. The only reason any of us survived is because of you," Kaldros heard awe creeping into his brother's voice, "You slew hundreds of Temur with your magic. And then you summoned three – three! - Butchers of the Horde," Jakhan continued speaking but his brother wasn't paying attention, holding his hands out and looking down at them in horror.

"I killed … Hundreds?" Kaldros asked, interrupting his brother who grinned, his pride in his brother obvious as he tried to keep the dark undertone of envy he felt out of his next comment.

"You are basically a hero now. I'm sure the survivors are telling stories about you even now,"

"No," Kaldros declared softly, "I am a monster," All he could see was a terrifying vision of blood pouring forth from his hands, agony erupting in his head, and as Jakhan started to speak again his twin slumped forwards, unconscious once again.

.*.*.*.

Sorin awoke from his magic-induced vision, his head pounding with an aching pain that he had last felt on Zendikar, when the Eldrazi had arisen once again from their millennia-old prison. The vampire knew it signified a large amount of colourless mana, which told him he was close to Ugin, the ghost-flame dragon that had aided him in originally sealing the monstrosities from the Blind Eternities away.

However, the contents of his foray into the Aether disturbed him immensely, the old planeswalker never having intruders into his meditations before. The Aether showed him a new location each time, and as he was attempting to make sense of what he was being shown, he saw the youth blindly stumbling around. Sorin was amazed rather than frightened at the sight of another being in his visions, wanting to talk to him to see what he knew, but the boy clearly couldn't hear his questions.

Desperate and realising that the boy would soon fade away from the dream-realm, Sorin had tried to give him something to remember the planeswalker by, something with power but also memorable – the pendant of Avacyn's collar being perfect in that respect. The child obviously had power, otherwise how could he have entered the vampire's dreams? He had disappeared quickly after, leaving Sorin alone in the raining realm to ponder the nature of the intrusion.

.*.*.*.

Jakhan stopped, his lungs heaving and his limbs in need of a long rest, and gently laid his brother down on the snow – although Kaldros was light, almost unhealthily so, and Jakhan could easily carry him, the physical exertion of running with another human on his back whilst having absolutely no rest after the battle had begun to take its toll.

He sat down with his back against a stout tree, panting for breath as salty perspiration ran down his brow, when he heard footsteps crunching through the snow. Instantly alert, Jakhan slowly rose to his feet and moved defensively in front of his inert twin, quietly unclasping his axe from around his waist.

A shadow darted into view, and Jakhan sprang forwards, swing his axe violently with a war-cry on his lips. Tanned hands grabbed the haft of the weapon and yanked it out of Jakhan's grip, the older twin falling over because of his momentum.

Brown eyes framed by wide cheekbones looked down disapprovingly at him, and a deep and familiar voice lectured admonishingly:

"You need to work on your technique, the bias you put on your right side makes it easy to disarm you,"

"D-Dad?" Jakhan questioned disbelievingly, "I thought you would be withdrawing with the Khan,"

"I chose to come back for you two instead"

"But doesn't that mean-" Jakhan was cut off by his father, who ruffled his short hair fondly.

"Any punishment is worth it to ensure that my sons are safe," his eyes glanced past Jakhan's relieved expression to the comatose Kaldros, his thin face screwed up in a grimace of pain, "Is he alright?"

"I'm not sure," the older twin uttered unhelpfully, turning to look around at his younger sibling, "He keeps fading in and out of unconsciousness, but I don't think he's entirely aware of what is happening – I only had one proper talk with him, the other times he muttered something and when I tried to reply, he was already asleep."

Jakhan talked quickly, his worry for Kaldros evident.

"Releasing that much magical power in such a short space of time is bound to take its toll on a mage." Carrok sat down next to his youngest son and ran rough fingers through his silken hair, the exact same texture of Cerelis's.

"I wish I could have been there for him," Carrok said, melancholy infusing his tone.

"So do I, Dad. We are meant to fight together, but I got cut off-"

"No," Carrok stated, "I didn't just mean in the battle today, I meant all throughout his life. I couldn't stand the sight of him, it reminded me too much of Cerelis. In my grief I ignored him, focussing too much on you and throwing myself into war – maybe bloodshed would help ease the pain, I foolishly told myself. And it did, for a time. Until even that became stale and boring – I did things that I will regret until I am cold in the grave. I spent time with you, thinking that your brother would be useless in my pursuit of violence. I finally realised two years ago how wrong I had gone. I resolved to love him, but it was too late."

"Kaldros didn't exactly make it easy for you!" Jakhan yelled, unsure at how to react to his father's moment of weakness and letting his emotions get the better of him, "He ignored you, forced you out and almost killed you!"

"Don't blame your brother, Jakhan. I have failed as a father," Carrok murmured despairingly.

Jakhan was about to punch his father, going to tell at him to snap out of his depression, as a Temur warrior launched out of concealment, spear directly aimed at his father's heart. Carrok reacted with blinding speed, leaping with his broadsword unsheathed. The heavy blade cleaved through the Temur's skull as an arrow thudded into the ground, missing the Warblade by millimetres. Jakhan stood up a second later, axe held tightly in his large hands.

"Go. Now!" Carrok shouted, as more lightly-armed humans dropped down from the trees. Frost spread in freezing cracks across the ground, and Jakhan heard a squawk from somewhere above him. He glimpsed dark feathers fluttering past him as an old aven flew at him, raking cold claws through the skin of his bare forearm. Jakhan grunted and headbutted the bird-man; it crashed into the ground in an explosion of feathers. He swung his axe around in a wide overhead curve, burying it in the aven's chest.

Ripping the axe free, the older twin took his place next to Carrok, blood running down his face.

"I'm not leaving you. We will fight them together!" he shouted.

"Don't be an idiot!" Carrok yelled, "There are far too many of them for us both to defeat – think about your brother. They would probably take him as a captive – who knows what they would do to him? I'll hold them off for as long as I can."

"I can't just abandon you!" Jakhan pleaded.

"I can finally have an impact on his life. Please don't deny me of that," tears filled Jakhan's eyes as his father shouted "I will not tell you again. GO!"

Jakhan nodded slowly, turning and scooping up his slight brother and beginning to sprint away from the ambushers, still following the course of the small stream.

He heard a berserk war-cry and the shattering of metal coupled with a crunching of bone. And then, silence.

Jakhan ran on, tears streaming down his face and dripping onto the cold ground. He felt intense sadness, but more than that, unquenchable rage. Why did his father deserve to die? He was loving, brave and loyal to his clan. Jakhan could think of many people who should die instead of his father, but pushed the vengeful thoughts to the back of his mind. Right now, he needed to concentrate on keeping himself and Kaldros alive, to not waste their father's noble sacrifice.

.*.*.*.

Kaldros's eyes snapped open and he sat up, pushing aside the woolly cloak draped over him and re-fastening it to his back. He tried to stand but sank to his knees – he felt exhausted and strangely _empty_, and his legs refused to obey his commands. It was night-time, but the moon still did not shine through the darkness of the snow-clouds.

He was perfectly unscathed, and although Kaldros remembered vines with sharp thorns stabbing and strangling, drawing blood – he should have small holes and marks all over him. It was like he had been healed by extremely powerful White magic, and recalled what Jakhan had said: he had lost control and used up huge amounts of mana, it would have been incredibly easy to seal his wounds.

The youth looked around for his twin brother, not seeing him in the darkness but spotting footsteps leading off out of sight in the crisp snow. Kaldros shivered, curling up into a foetal ball, leaning on the tree behind him and pulling the snow-horn cloak tighter around him, wondering how his brother coped in the biting cold without one.

Rubbing his hands together, Kaldros noticed that his short-sword was missing; he concluded that he had probably lost it in the battle, realising that without his blade or his magic, he would be easy prey for the numerous predators bound to be in the forest.

Just as he was beginning to think of dark, terrifying creatures emerging from the blackness and attacking him did Jakhan appear, carrying a small deer with a huge wound in its side. He also had a satchel of water strapped to his waist.

The twin instantly concluded that something was wrong with Jakhan, his shoulders slumped and his posture, usually straight-backed and proud, was bowed and slouched. His brother looked sorrowfully back at Kaldros, the mage seeing the pain clearly enough in his brother's eyes despite the fact that he didn't have enough mana to even observe auras.

"What's wrong?" Kaldros asked, his voice hoarse but still concerned for his brother's well-being. Jakhan passed the satchel of water over and his younger brother quickly unscrewed it and drank deeply of the chilling but refreshing liquid, looking back guiltily at Jakhan as he realised that he had drunk over half of it already.

"Go ahead, drink it all," he said nonchalantly, sidestepping his brother's question, "There is a stream nearby, so I can go refill it at any time."

"You did check it to make sure it was safe, didn't you?" Kaldros enquired innocently enough, pausing to hear his brother's answer before drinking more. However, Jakhan found it irritating and shouted back: "Of course I did you idiot, where else would I have got the deer from!"

Kaldros recoiled in shock, fear prevalent in his red eyes as he shuffled backwards, away from his angry brother. Jakhan sighed, letting the rage which had exploded from nowhere simmer back down into him.

"Kaldros, calm down, I wouldn't purposefully hurt you, would I?" Jakhan smiled apologetically, ignoring his brother's snide remark of "I beg to differ," and sitting down across from the albino.

"I didn't want to tell you until we were safe and you had recovered, but thinking about it, you deserve to know," Jakhan reached forwards and placed a large hand sympathetically on his twin's shoulder, his eyes already misting up. Kaldros leaned forwards, anything that could make his brother cry was definitely something serious.

"Kaldros, our dad, he..." Jakhan's voice broke in despondency as tears again rolled down his cheeks, "He died protecting us,"

The silence descended over the area for a few seconds, only broken by the wind rustling through the trees as Kaldros stared blankly at his brother.

"Well that was careless of him," Kaldros simply stated.

Jakhan gazed back for a single second, completely shocked at his twin brother. Then fury rose in him and he grabbed his brother around the throat with the hand that was on his shoulder and slammed him into the tree and lifting him off his feet, causing Kaldros to cough violently. His large hand fully encircling his brother's fragile neck, Jakhan tried to restrain himself and let go, but the rage controlled him, causing him to squeeze but not with full strength - he still had some measure of power.

"_What, you think I would care?" _Kaldros gasped with a strained voice, glaring at Jakhan, "_I never loved him, in fact, I-_" Jakhan screamed in anger and cut him off, choking his brother with full strength, moving his other hand round his twin's throat. Kaldros's glare quickly lost its intensity, knowing that he had pushed his brother too far, his eyes bulging and his face turning red, and then blue. His vision blurred as streaks of darkness swirled around the edge of his sight.

Kaldros tried desperately to pry Jakhan's squeezing fingers off his neck, but he was nowhere near as strong as his fraternal twin who snarled at him and pressed his thumbs into the middle of his neck. Crimson blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, Kaldros's eyes pleading as he knew he would die if Jakhan didn't let go soon. He looked at his brother imploringly, and Jakhan snarled, squeezing harder and almost crushing his brother's windpipe. His eyes fluttered and rolled back. Just as he was about to slip into unconsciousness, his brother released him, dropping him to the floor as cold air flooded into his lungs.

Kaldros panted, gasping for breath as his twin turned away and silently prepared the deer for cooking. Kaldros tenderly stroked his throat, a huge purple bruise swelling up on it. He started to laugh in-between heavy breaths, the action causing him pain but he continued to do it. He shivered in fear, and resolved to say something sarcastic - he didn't want Jakhan to see him terrified, it would crush his twin with guilt.

"I thought you wouldn't hurt me, big brother," Kaldros said in the most patronising voice possible. He _never _called Jakhan that.

"Shut up," Jakhan snarled.


	7. Chapter 7

_I apologise in advance for nothing really going on in this chapter, but it had to be done anyway. I promise chapter 8 will be more interesting! Also, in reply to the guest, (thank you for reviewing) sorry about not updating very often, but this story has to be balanced with school and revision, and if I'm not happy with a chapter I won't upload it until I am satisfied._

Jakhan stripped the flesh off the deer and constructed a small spit over some dry twigs he had prepared, ramming chunks of meat onto it. He sat down, rubbing two small flints together and creating a spark that set the twigs alight. While it may attract potential pursuers, Jakhan and his brother desperately needed to eat and they would have a much greater chance of reaching Sarashak on a full stomach.

Kaldros's pained laughter had died down, and while Jakhan was disturbed and annoyed at what his twin had said, he was ashamed of himself – he had lost control so easily, almost killing the smaller boy in his fit of violent rage. Kaldros obviously hadn't recovered properly from his trauma, mentally or physically, and Jakhan thought that he couldn't really be held accountable for his actions. He could feel his brother's gaze boring into his back and felt extremely guilty about choking Kaldros.

"Dad really did love you, you know?" Jakhan said suddenly, trying to break the tension building between the twins. He quickly turned around as he heard a whimper coming from his brother – Kaldros sat with his head pressed into his slender knees, and Jakhan gently pushed his head up, flinching slightly as he saw the size of the ugly purple bruise on his sibling's throat. Jakhan winced as his smaller brother shuddered as he touched him, realising the amount of damage that he had done in his rage.

Tears cascading down his face and rolling onto the snow, Kaldros cried, the day's woes finally catching up with him and unable to keep up his façade.

"I...I kn-know," he stuttered, the words causing him pain as he continued, "I was just blinded by my own hatred, I couldn't accept him. And now he's dead!" He yelled, "I never got to tell him..."

Jakhan was startled by Kaldros's sudden change in attitude towards his father, realising that Kaldros's hatred was just a product of the years of neglect and would have simmered down had they all survived the battle.

"I bet you hate me, don't you? Your weak little twin brother. Without me, mum would still be alive and dad would never have gone like he did. I wouldn't blame you. I ruined his life, and now I've ruined yours as well. I don't deserve to exist in this world."

Now it was Jakhan's turn to chuckle, and he pulled Kaldros forwards into a bone-crushing hug, trying to ignore his brother's frightened shivering.

"You are always so melodramatic, you mages!" he laughed, "I could never hate you. You're like a part of me. Now lets get something to eat, I'm starving!"

.*.*.*.

Ethlashi spat onto the ground, the acidic saliva melting a stunted plant that slowly keeled over and died. She glared at the creatures stood in front of her, trying to avoid her murderous gaze and flinching whenever it passed over them – the serpentine naga wondering why perfectly fine apes had ever decided to regress into these disgusting beings that mocked all other sentient creatures simply by existing.

Ethlashi herself was an aberration in the ruling class of the Sultai, the naga covered with sapphire scales that contrasted deeply with the few pieces of clothing she wore – the bright green silk hurt the eyes of those that looked at it and was connected to chains of shining gold that snaked across her upper body. The naga's tail coiled behind her and occasionally stabbed forwards to illustrate her words. The tip was covered with an extremely lethal poison that caused the victim's mind to produce powerful and agonising hallucinations that she enjoyed inflicting upon humans when she couldn't be bothered to waste her powerful magic on them.

She analysed each one in turn, each of the three captains petrified and haughty at the same time: Wercas, was an effective but ultimately stupid general favouring Green mana that had little talent for the schemes and plots of Sultai politics – it made him a good warrior but prevented him from rising in the ranks and made him more expendable.

Dethara was swathed in expensive fabrics and gold, the woman's display of wealth only seeming to make her weaker in the eyes of Ethlashi – why try so hard to show something and not let one's reputation speak for itself? Dethara professed to be a master of arcane and powerful spells of Blue and Black mana but the naga knew that the woman had only scratched the surface of true power. She looked down at the two other captains, seeing herself to be superior. Oh how humans were idiotic creatures!

The last captain, an extremely ambitious human named Nazek that used only Black mana, was an irritating worm that constantly tried to curry Ethlashi's favour – the naga loved to pretend she was honouring him as crushed dreams were her favourite pleasure, and subtly influenced his mind to make him believe that she was favouring him.

Ethlashi scowled, she hated dealing with these repulsive creatures but the humans were apparently the most influential of their kind in the Sultai after Taigam and Kirada and commanded huge legions of undead each – larger than Ethlashi's own collection but nowhere near as potent, the naga experimenting on her own creations with numerous dark magics that would disgust even some members of her own clan.

She would have preferred to simply kill the humans and incorporate their undead into her own army, but needed the separate directing forces to fully conquer the Mardu territory on which she now stood (or rather, slithered) – the traitor had done his job well, sending the majority of the warriors into Temur territory and opening up the clan's land for the taking, and the Sultai were never ones to pass up an opportunity for more power and wealth.

"I trust you understand your orders?" she hissed venomously, and the humans quickly nodded and turned away, glaring at one another as they went to rouse their own legions.

.*.*.*.

The grey city loomed on the horizon, and while it wasn't as intimidating as an Abzan fortress, Jakhan was still awed by it as he had never seen such a large dwelling in his whole life, the Mardu rarely establishing permanent settlements.

While they were eating, Kaldros had fallen into a fitful slumber and Jakhan had rested for a short while before carrying his twin once again on his back. The younger twin sometimes twitched unexpectedly, and Jakhan had no idea of what was going on in his mind or what was affecting him.

The gates of Sarashak were always open to anyone in Tarkir (although the Temur and Mardu rarely, if ever, visited), the neutral city protected by its own soldiers and numerous clan warriors, most from the Abzan or Jeskai who utilised the unowned territory to trade exclusive goods often.

Jakhan walked closer to the gates, the huge slabs of granite forming the walls next to it often imposing enough to deter potential attackers without even seeing the archers stationed there, the grey tunics worn by them camouflaging the warriors, blending into the walls from long distances away.

The Mardu was bone-tired, and as he trudged slowly through the gates some guards turned to look at him but quickly dismissed as not being a threat. On any other day, Jakhan would have railed against any insult to his martial proud, but right now he didn't care – all he wanted was somewhere to stay and rest.

It was late afternoon, the long trek through the forest without much rest exhausting him beyond belief. He paid little attention to the curious glances the many citizens paid him – it was strange to see a Mardu clan member in Sarashak – and scanned buildings nearby, thinking it would be logical to have a place to rest near the gateway. It started to rain, water spilling from the heavens and soaking the twins as Jakhan looked for a place to stay.

He spotted a sign hanging from the side of a tall stone structure – it showed a wooden bed, and Jakhan thought Kaldros would have been amused by the simplicity of it. Turning round to the entrance of the building, Jakhan noticed the faded lettering above him but didn't know what it said. Most Mardu did not know how to read, the practice being deemed an unnecessary waste of time when it did not directly impact with combat or warfare.

Many of the shamans knew how to read, as learning magic was an important part of becoming a mage – Kaldros had tried to teach his brother, and as such Jakhan knew the very basic rudiments of it, but his twin had become impatient and frustrated with him, refusing to carry on his lessons.

Jakhan pushed the heavy wooden door open, glad to be out of the pouring rain. The first thing he noticed was the huge, roaring fire blazing mesmerizingly at the edge of the large entrance room, many other travellers sat in front of it. He recognised the scale armour of the Abzan in the clothing of a small group of tanned soldiers sat around a low table, drinking and laughing with each other.

Kaldros murmured something incomprehensible as Jakhan paced across to the counter at the far end of the room that was flanked by two large staircases. He assumed they were for getting to the rooms, and as he came closer a short, hunched man with a scar sealing his left eye shut spoke at him with a gruff voice

"A room for two costs 50 Azrai or its equivalent in gold," Jakhan stopped dead in his tracks, a mortified look on his face. He hadn't thought of that – after all they'd been through, he had just automatically assumed that Sarashak would mean safety, and so not considered the fact that he would actually have to pay.

"I...I," he stuttered, and the innkeeper scowled back, "Pay up or get out,"

Jakhan fell to his knees, exhaustion preventing his movements and the man motioned to two guards. As they hoisted him up, a strangely accented voice rang out.

"Stop. I shall pay for them – I'll buy the room next to ours," a medium sized, shaven-headed man wearing a simple light blue robe that outwardly showed nothing out of the ordinary stepped forwards, holding out a sack containing some coins.

As Jakhan looked at him, he noticed the Eye of the Dragon tattooed in the middle of the man's forehead, and the Jeskai smiled back at the youth's look of surprise. He had a unscarred face slightly crumpled by a few wrinkles, but his deep blue eyes showed an age far beyond that of his physical appearance. He paced towards the innkeeper's desk, each movement perfectly balanced and moderated – Jakhan could tell that the Jeskai was a warrior, although he carried no obvious weapons.

"Meja, Arethe, take the boy off him and get him something to eat please," at their master's call, two adolescents stood up from their seats and moved towards Jakhan, one tall girl with long brown hair and calm green eyes, the other a muscular, frowning boy with a shaven head and piercing blue eyes.

The male moved at Jakhan, holding his hands out and glowering at the Mardu, who moved away instinctively, tensing with an automatic need to protect his comatose twin. The boy sighed and went to grab Kaldros as Jakhan growled and grabbed the other boy's arms, his twin slipping off him and landing on the floor.

"Meja, let me handle this, go buy some food," a soothing female voice spoke, the girl moving up and placing a soft hand on Jakhan's arm. The Mardu relaxed as the calming Blue and White mana flowed through his body, the Jeskai who must have been Arethe standing next to him and smiling into his eyes. Meja scowled and turned away, moving into another room.

"I promise we won't hurt him. You have been through a lot and need to rest now. We will take care of him. Okay?" she asked and went to pick up the fallen Kaldros, the young mage still showing no signs of stirring from his slumber.

As soon as Arethe's hand touched Kaldros, she jumped back, instantly alert.

"What's wrong?" Jakhan asked urgently, his concern for his twin overriding the need for rest.

"Nothing. I just sensed something familiar," said Arethe, a melancholy and distracted look in her eyes that disappeared the instant Jakhan noticed it.

"We'll take him up to the room, then you can come back down and have something to eat!" she laughed enthusiastically, although the Mardu knew she was hiding something – Kaldros himself acted like that when he wanted to conceal information from his brother, and Jakhan decided not to press the issue. The Jeskai had been kind to him and his twin, and he would not waste that.

"Sit down," she ordered, pushing Jakhan towards a chair and then picking up Kaldros easily and carrying him towards the stairs.

Jakhan watched her go, seeing her shapely body sway slightly as she held his brother. He was drawn to the curve of her hips, when he heard an amused chuckle from behind him.

He turned, his cheeks flaring up almost imperceptibly in embarrassment as the older Jeskai, probably their master or teacher, smiled back at him again.

"My name is Shintan – I am a Jeskai, as you may have already worked out. I would like to know your name before you propose to Arethe there."

Jakhan's face went bright red and he pouted sulkily, Shintan sniggering with mirth.

"I'm Jakhan. My twin is called Kaldros," he muttered and the Jeskai blinked in surprise.

"Twin? I thought the boy was at least three years younger than you!" he exclaimed, "How old are you both?"

"Fourteen two months ago," Jakhan replied.

"So young..." Shintan murmured sadly, but before Jakhan had a chance to ask what he meant, a metal bowl containing delicious looking food was slammed down in front of him.

"Master, why do we help these Mardu savages? We are training to be warriors, we should be killing the barbarians, not nursing them!" Meja shouted at them, a small waiter carrying some drinks quickly placing them on the table and scampering off.

Jakhan stiffened at the Jeskai's insults but refused to rise to the obvious bait, instead ignoring him and focussing on the steaming bowl of fish in front of him. That only incensed Meja further, the youth grabbing Jakhan's shoulder and turning the Mardu to face him.

"You need to learn to control your anger if you are to become a proper warrior," Shintan admonished sternly, and Meja released Jakhan, who was breathing heavily and doing exactly that. The angry Jeskai student gazed angrily at his master who looked calmly back. Meja snarled and left the table, pushing the door to the outside open and slamming it shut when he exited.

"What's his problem?" Jakhan growled, letting his body relax, not realising how tense he had become during the altercation.

"His family and village were slaughtered by Mardu raiders," Shintan stated simply.

"Oh.." Jakhan replied, and he was interrupted by the Jeskai as he was about to speak again.

"Do not apologise, young Jakhan, you are not responsible for the actions of your clan," the master cut in, "Meja and Arethe were the only survivors, both hidden by their parents in concealment magic. I found them when I visited the ruins of the village the day after, and decided to raise them as my own and teach them in the way of the Jeskai."

"Meja is just at that age, sixteen if you were wondering, that teenagers naturally rebel – you are an easy target for his rage, belonging to the clan that murdered both his and Arethe's families."

Jakhan stood up from the table, his meal finished, and bowed before Shintan.

"Thank you for your kindness, we would have had to sleep on the streets without you," Jakhan said to the grinning Shintan.

"Don't mention it. Now go get some rest. I'll see if I can help Kaldros tomorrow. You two certainly seem close just from the way that you act."

Jakhan turned and walked up the stairs, almost colliding with Arethe at the top as she started to come down.

The girl grinned, handing him a key and pointing at a room at the western side.

"Yours is there, I've left a change of clothes on the rack, one for you and another for your brother – guess which is which. There is a bathhouse next to the inn, you can go get washed in the evening tomorrow after dinner. Breakfast is served all through the morning," she explained, looking back and becoming concerned at Jakhan's downcast expression.

"Arethe, I-" he started to say, but the Jeskai placed a finger on his lips.

"I know. It's not your fault, and I don't blame you for it. Just ignore whatever Meja says, he'll get over it soon." With that she elegantly brushed past him and descended the stairs.

Jakhan pushed open the door to his room, a simple but cosy chamber with a couple of padded chairs, a clothing rack with two simple outfits and a painting of some local lake. A wooden table was on the side of each bed, one with a slowly burning lamp. There was another door, presumably going into a bathroom of some form.

The centre of the space was take up by two touching beds, one already occupied by Jakhan's afflicted brother, the thin boy whimpering quietly, Jakhan feeling guilty as he noticed the purple bruise on his throat. Jakhan pulled off his bloodstained clothing, touching his chest and tensing as he ran his fingers over the wound there.

He climbed into the bed adjacent to Kaldros, quietly snuffing out the lamp, although there was no chance of him waking his twin. He reached over and squeezed Kaldros's hand, whispering:

"Good night, little brother."


	8. Chapter 8

Gareth Hateaxe woke suddenly to the sound of shouting voices, the cries of alarm ringing in his ears and bouncing around in his head. He rose, forgetting where he was for a second, before noticing the half-empty bottle of alcohol laying next to him and remembering the events of the night before.

His warriors had plundered an isolated village, looting and slaying with wild abandon – they had celebrated the victory that night, drinking and fighting over the spoils of war. Gareth recalled little after that, assuming that he must have staggered back to his tent drunk and passed out. His head hurt like he had been punched by an ogre. He reached for his helm, and fastening it on, grabbed his double-edge battle axe and pushed the flap open.

The first thing that hit him was the smell – a putrid miasma of festering corpses that caused him to throw up, the contents of last night's meal spraying across the wind-swept ground as he bent double. It was very early in the morning, the feeble light of the rising sun illuminating everything with weak light. A hand gripped his shoulders and pulled him upright, Gareth scowling at the Mardu who had touched him.

"My lord, we have to leave now!" cried Fared Scattersword, a fresh faced youth that had only been Named a few months ago and joined Gareth's raiding party soon after looked at him, panic and fear warring for control of his features.

The Hordechief back-handed him across the face, blood exploding from the wound, and Gareth grabbed by his collar and pulled him closer.

"Run, you idiot? The Mardu do not run," Gareth growled, the stench of his breath utterly eclipsed by the reek of death emanating from the west.

"Victory or death! Drive the enemy back!" Gareth yelled, throwing the stunned Fared away from him and raising his axe, charging towards the west side of the camp. And then he saw the foe.

A gargantuan horde of groaning undead in various states of decay shambled towards them – some were clearly Sultai, with chains of brass stabbed into them and torcs of gold encircling their arms, wrists and throats in an obscene display of wealth. However, some were clearly more recent, Gareth recognising the fallen villagers, many of which he had slain only the night before, in the forefront of the legion, as well as a few Mardu warriors.

A huge wave of dark-blue magic spewed from the back of the rotting crowd, and Gareth spied a gilded palanquin hoisted by towering figures – two reanimated ogres, their size undiminished by death and perhaps more terrifying than ever carried the ostentatious box-carriage. He could see a few arrows being fired into the mass, but it was like throwing a stone at a dragon – utterly pointless. The few dead that were downed by the bolts stood back up again.

Most of his warriors had not awakened from their drunken slumber, and Gareth felt a chill run down his spine as he knew that there was no way to stop the horde from slaughtering them and rampaging unchecked through Mardu territory. He had to get out, to warn his Khan of the Sultai threat and to escape the dead – the thought of death did not scare him, but the prospect of his soul being stuck inside of a rotting corpse terrified him beyond belief.

Gareth began to run, but as soon as he started tendrils of Black mana wrapped around him, corrupting the flesh it touched and pulling him into the air. He screamed in pain, the agonising grip of the sorcery tearing his nerves apart.

"I can't have you leave yet, the fun is just beginning," a sibilant female voice whispered in his ear, the words paralysing him, preventing the Hordechief from resisting as he was dragged through the air to the palanquin and pulled through its silken curtains.

Inside, a beautiful human woman waited, her body and features so perfect as to be disturbing. She was draped in expensive and rare fabrics, with gold jewellery covering most of her exposed flesh. As Gareth looked into the glittering orbs of her eyes, mesmerised by her unmatched beauty and feeling desire outweigh his need for freedom, she smiled cruelly back and the colour of her eyes changed to a deep darkness.

Agony shot through his body and he spasmed in torment, black liquid erupting from his throat and onto the Sultai's dress, who tutted disapprovingly and stepped backwards. She started to laugh, the horrible sound cutting through Gareth's eardrums as he died, his final sight the alluring but utterly evil woman.

"Welcome to the ranks of the Sultai," Dethara giggled, as Gareth's corpse rose from the floor of the palanquin and staggered out, joining the ever-increasing horde gathered in front of her.

.*.*.*.

Jakhan sat up in the bed, stretching and yawning as the effects of his sleep wore off. He had not slept that well in weeks, and he woke feeling revitalised and ready for a new day. He looked down at his twin, who was still asleep, and gently shook him. No response.

Jakhan sighed, wondering what was wrong with his brother and moving towards the rack, picking up the largest outfit – a brown short-sleeved shirt, with matching brown trousers. When he had just about finished dressing, there was a loud knock on his door. He picked up the keys from the table and putting them into the lock, cursing he dropped them.

The locking mechanism released with a clack of metal, and the door swung open as Arethe burst in shouting joyfully:

"Good morning Jakhan!" noticing the slumbering Kaldros, she comically placed a hand over her mouth and Jakhan laughed.

"There's no chance of waking him" he chuckled, before his expression became glum, and Arethe put her arm around his shoulder, the gesture slightly over-familiar as they didn't really know each other, but touching nonetheless.

"Master Shintan said that he thinks Kaldros is suffering from an extreme form of Mana Deficiency," Jakhan looked back confused, and Arethe explained:

"Mana Deficiency occurs when a mage uses too much mana – they are prevented from using magic, as they need to regenerate it and can't supply their spells with any. Kaldros must have used a huge amount of mana to be in this state."

"He definitely did," Jakhan replied, nodding. They both stared silently at the albino for a moment, his fraternal twin realising how much he missed his brother already.

"What is he like?" Arethe asked, a look of curiosity in her sparkling green eyes.

"Smart. And determined. He has occasional mood swings, but normally he is kind and calm. He has a way of just seeing right through people," Jakhan answered, and then added: "But he is strong. Not physically, like I am, but his magic is the most powerful I've ever seen. I always forget that, and treat him like a fragile little brother."

Arethe said nothing for a few seconds, but then turned towards the door saying,

"Breakfast is being served now," she stated, smiling back at Jakhan, "Master Shintan and Meja are already there. He seems to have calmed down after the master talked to him. Come down when you're ready."

Arethe winked back and exited the room, leaving Jakhan alone again. The muscular youth looked at his brother for a second, and silently promised he would help him recover. He then left the room, leaving the door unlocked in-case his twin did awaken, and went down to get breakfast.

.*.*.*.

After a filling meal of snow-horn meat and some sort of sweet fruit, Jakhan and Arethe talked for a bit about their respective cultures, Meja ignored them and Shintan sat in silent contemplation.

After a few seconds of silence, Shintan slammed his hand onto the table, causing Jakhan to jump back in surprise, which provoked a disdainful eye roll from Meja.

"My students, the young Kaldros is suffering from an extreme case of Magical Deficiency, and may even die without aid," Shintan calmly stated.

"What!?" Jakhan shouted in shock, as Shintan held his hand up.

"Therefore, your first test in Sarashak will be a test of kindness and magic: to heal him back to full health. I will give you each some money to spend on medicine today – you will go into the trading quarter and buy some. I want you to each spend alternating hours with him, starting with Meja at noon. Jakhan, you can choose which of my students to accompany, although I already who."

"Where will you be going, master?" Meja interjected, and Shintan turned to reply.

"I have clan business to attend to. Expect me to return in a few days' time. I trust that you will keep out of trouble until then."

"Yes, master, I know," Meja groaned, Arethe laughing and shoving him playfully.

"Would you care to join me, Jakhan?" she asked, pushing her chair back, standing up and running excitedly towards the door.

"Yeah, okay, I will," Jakhan said hurriedly, getting up and sprinting after her.

Meja sat for a few seconds, watching the Mardu catching up with his fellow student and conversing enthusiastically with her.

"Well?" Shintan asked, rising to his feet and casting a glance at the glum Meja. "Shouldn't you be setting off now?"

"Jakhan and Kaldros, are they-" Shintan nodded, smiling at his student.

"Very observant of you, Meja, though that is not is the only reason we are helping them. The two will play a pivotal role in future events, I am sure of it. Now go. Purchase some medicine, this will give you a good opportunity to develop your healing skills."

.*.*.*.

Meja avoided the crowds of people that swarmed around the numerous hollering traders that announced the prices of their stock, increasing every time in an attempt to out-shout the competition, like a litter of pups wailing at their mother for attention.

It was almost noon, the sun close to reaching its peak in the sky and the Jeskai had already bought what he had intended to, leaving him with just enough money to buy one more set of herbs. He scanned the stalls, looking for an apothecary of some sort, and noticed a quiet Abzan trader wearing the traditional scale plate of the clan.

Meja guessed that he must have been a Salt Road trader, the Abzan there all combat-ready in order to protect their precious cargo. He sauntered towards the apothecary, and turned towards him, greeting him friendlily.

"What brings you to the Market Quarter?" he asked politely, although he wasn't actually that interested.

"I am just selling stock that we would be unable to take with us. It is a dangerous journey back to Arashin, and it is imperative that we are not weighed down with unnecessary goods. Anything caught your eye?" he replied.

Meja knew that the Abzan were the masters of endurance and hoped to find some medicine that would reflect that.

"I have a friend suffering from Magical Deficiency. Do you have anything to help with that?" he inquired, thinking that something all-purpose would help reinforce the other, more specialised herbs he had collected.

"How about some Eltos? We Abzan often use it to help recuperating mages. It is 3 Azrai." noticing Meja's undecided look, he added: "It comes free with this, a good luck charm." he produced a silver pendant shaped like a strange collar. The trader had found it in the stash of unwanted goods, and didn't know what it was.

"I'll take it then," said Meja, exchanging the money for the herbs and pendant – he thought it would make a nice gift for Arethe, to make her notice him again.

He looked up at the sky, the sun was sat in its centre, Meja realising he would be late, and although there was no way that master Shintan could know that, he began to sprint back to the inn.

He pushed the door open and ran up the stairs to the room next to his. He stopped just outside it, breathing heavily, and checked that he still had the required ingredients. Meja then slid the entrance open and entered.

Kaldros was sat up in the bed, and snapped his head in Meja's direction as soon as the older boy came in, a look of suspicion on his youthful features.

"Who are you?" he questioned, becoming increasingly guarded as he saw the Eye of the Dragon on the Jeskai's forehead.

"My name is Meja, my master decided to take you and your brother in and buy a room for you. Now me and my fellow student have to heal you."

"Interesting," Kaldros mused, his red eyes relaxing, "Any specific reason?"

"For what?" the Jeskai student replied, placing his bag of medicine and running over the mantras for conjuring White mana in his head.

"For taking me and Jakhan in. Jeskai never do anything spontaneous," Kaldros slid his thin legs over the edge of the bed and tested standing up, nausea clouding his vision as soon as he attempted it.

"If there was one, my master hasn't thought to inform us of it," Meja lied, and Kaldros grinned knowingly. He was not like other Mardu, the Jeskai concluded, Jakhan's brother much more intelligent and calm than the other members of his clan, his twin included.

"You should probably take those off," Meja suggested, motioning to the albino's bloodstained clothing. Kaldros complied, shrugging off the garments onto the floor next to the bed (obviously leaving his underwear on). Meja noticed that the boy's pale skin was unscarred by the violence of war, apart from a large bruise on his throat, which meant he didn't have to waste time on physical healing, and grabbed a bunch of Weland, a plant restorative properties.

He concentrated hard, a feat made more difficult with the curious red eyes of Kaldros resting on him, and fused White and Blue mana into the herbs – Meja hoped that it would augment the properties of the Weland.

He passed it to Kaldros, instructing: "Eat these while I prepare some spells,"

The young mage made a face at the bitter taste but didn't outwardly complain as Meja infused White mana into his hands, the enchantments almost failing. Magic, especially healing spells, was not the young Jeskai's strong point, Meja preferred to engage the enemy at close quarters and use the many different fighting styles he had been taught. He cursed as the magic sputtered and died down.

"You need to focus less on the outcome of the spell, and more on the generation of mana," Kaldros told him, only serving to irritate the student further.

"By all means, heal yourself!" he yelled angrily, which earned a condescending sigh from the Mardu.

"You warriors really need to learn to control your emotions," Kaldros said, and Meja was tempted to punch him. Instead he calmed down.

"My apologies. I am not normally this rash," he replied, finally getting the spell to flow from his hands and into the smaller boy.

.*.*.*.

Jakhan was pulled down the Market Quarter by Arethe, the girl yanking him through the crowds towards a specific destination, one that he had no clue of where it was.

"Where are we going?" he asked, letting go of the Jeskai's hand. She smiled back at him, and pointed at an ancient-looking establishment with a sign depicting some herb or medicinal plant on the cover of a book.

"There," she explained, "It is a healer's library, I've been there once before when master Shintan took us to Sarashak, when Meja was ill. I remember it being very extensive." she paused.

"Although that was ten years ago. Anything could have happened since then,"

"That is reassuring," Jakhan exclaimed, and looking up at the sun, he added: "Meja should be back now. I hope Kaldros is alright."

"He will be," Arethe responded, and seeing Jakhan's look of worry, she patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Meja's not that type of person," she declared.

"I know, I wasn't thinking about that," Jakhan spoke, his tone soft and his eyes distracted and lost in contemplation.

"Anyway, let's get going!" he added cheerfully, his brief melancholy forgotten as he gripped Arethe's hand again. They walked into the shop – Arethe was right, there was a huge library of books covering all sorts of random topics.

"We should look for ones on mana restoration and Magical Deficiency, it should be in the Non-Physical section," Arethe suggested, letting go of Jakhan and looking at a scroll showing the layout of the library.

"There," she pointed, "The second floor,"

The two made their way towards it, when out of the shadows a figure emerged and tapped Jakhan on the shoulder. The Mardu spun around, his hands on the axe at his waist, and the figure raised a placating hand.

"Be calm, Jakhan. I do not wish to hurt you," he said in a gruff, thickly accented voice, and stepped into full view. The figure was clad head-to-toe in the scale armour of the Abzan, wearing a helm with a peaked cap and a jewelled longsword sheathed at his side. He was taller and even more muscular than Jakhan, who stared back in confusion.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, and the figure removed his helmet. Small, black eyes stared back, set in front of pointed ears on a large head, and the two realised that the Abzan was an orc.

"My name is Dragin. Believe it or not, our fathers were both friends. I was there at your birth, and I can still remember your scent. Not long after, he was killed in battle with my current clan and I was adopted. I was only a child at the time, and became a Krumar, an orphan adopted by an Abzan family. When my siblings needed to go to Sarashak, I came with them and detected your scent."

"Why are you here now?" Arethe questioned, her green eyes alight with suspicion.

"To bring you a warning: You and your brother are in great danger, especially Kaldros. Come with me," he replied direly.


	9. Chapter 9

Meja cursed in frustration and slammed his fist on the table, causing Kaldros to jump in surprise.

"Why is it not working?" he growled, knocking the herbs off the table and onto the floor and grabbing his bag, rummaging through the medicines angrily.

"You should probably calm down – White and Blue mana doesn't react well to the presence of anger of disorderly thoughts," Kaldros suggested,: "Take a break for a few minutes, refocus your mana."

"Okay, okay," Meja replied, heaving out a sigh and sitting down on the chair next to Kaldros's bed, using magic always tired him out.

"How did you use all your mana?" the Jeskai idly asked, tapping his fingers on the arms of the chair.

"I don't want to talk about it," Kaldros uttered, his soft voice inflected with deep despair. Meja nodded, and they sat in awkward silence for a few seconds, the Mardu staring blankly at the Jeskai who tried to avoid his gaze.

"You aren't like your brother," Meja suddenly spoke, eager to break the tension building up in the room. Kaldros grinned, breaking free from his reverie and nodding.

"No, not really. He is quicker to act and shows his emotions more. Jakhan is also occasionally very overprotective, which is sometimes nice and sometimes downright annoying, although normally about half the time he acts like a rival That's also irritating, as he forgets his own strength and wants to wrestle with me."

"You sound like you don't get on very well," Meja interjected, wondering what it would be like to have a brother. Kaldros's smile broadened and he laughed.

"This is where he'd say something like: "He's a part of me." Jakhan is the only person who has ever made an effort to understand me, although if I am being brutally honest, he really doesn't. But I appreciate the effort."

"So I assume it was your brother that caused that?" Meja inquired, motioning to the ugly bruise on the albino's neck. Kaldros rubbed it, wincing in pain, and replied: "Yes, though it was my fault. I kept pushing him, and he reacted. It was scary, I thought he was going to kill me." His voice took on an almost imperceptible undertone of fear, but Meja picked up on it. _Kaldros is terrified of his brother! _he realised.

"May I?" Meja asked, his hand flaring up with soothing White mana, "I may as well do something of worth before I hand you over to Arethe."

Kaldros nodded and pushed his chin up, trying to ignore the images of Jakhan choking him that popped into his head. Meja placed his hand around the younger boy's throat, letting his magic flow into the bruise and winking reassuringly at Kaldros when he saw his worried look. Meja noticed Kaldros shuddering slightly and increased the pace of the healing, not wanting to put the boy under any more torment. _How could someone do this to their own brother? _he thought, and his opinion of Jakhan worsened. If he had a younger brother, he would do everything in his power to protect them, not hurt them like this. Meja resolved that he was going to try and keep the albino safe, and tried to raise Kaldros's spirits.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. If you were Jakhan, I might do, but since you are his twin and much easier to get on with, I don't think I will."

"I'm not surprised you don't like Jakhan – he has an annoying habit of making anyone of a similar age and the same gender as him a rival."

After a few seconds, he let go – the bruise had disappeared. The Mardu thanked him, telling him that the pain had gone.

"I should probably tidy those up," Meja said, bending down to the scattered herbs on the floor and pulling the bag off the table. As he did so, the silver pendant that he had bought earlier and forgotten about fell out and clattered onto the floor.

"Where did you get that?" Kaldros questioned suddenly, the image of that same pendant being pressed into his hand thrusting itself to the forefront of his thoughts. He did not know where the image came from, and the Jeskai scooped up the pendant, running his thumb over its edges.

"An Abzan trader just gave me it to me for free to go with the Eltos. He just said that it was some junk they had found. I was going to give it to Arethe." Meja replied and held it out to Kaldros,

"Take a look,"

The second the mage touched the collar, a huge explosion of mana radiated out from him, slamming Meja into the walls, the last thing he saw before unconsciousness was Kaldros standing up, magic swirling around his pale skin.

.*.*.*.

Dragin led them out of the library and down into the sewers, a narrow passageway that the two males had trouble fitting their bulky frames through. Arethe was still extremely suspicious of the orc, but Jakhan could not be dissuaded – he insisted that if he ignored the warning and something happened to Kaldros, he would never be able to forgive himself.

"Besides," he had said, "What is the harm in it?"

Arethe had thought there was quite a bit of potential harm in the endeavour, but had kept these thoughts to herself as she knew that Jakhan would refuse to listen to her. She used her Blue mana to try to detect if anyone – or anything – threatening was nearby, but it was no use, the natural build up of Black mana in the sewers was clogging her ethereal senses like thick tar.

"Why don't you just tell us your warning now?" she asked, planting her feet on the ground and determined to get an answer.

"Actually, I don't know the specifics, I just know that the twins are in danger," the orc shouted back, continuing to progress down the tunnel, his gruff voice bouncing off the walls and creating a series of haunting echoes. As they were walking, the claustrophobic tunnels anathema to Jeskai, who preferred to be outdoors and in the open air, ended, and they entered a large, dark chamber with an exit several hundred metres in the other direction. There were huge pipes on either side of the room that filled the area with the sound of rushing water.

Dragin turned to look at the youths, continuing his explanation of the situation.

"Iniedra, a spirit speaker and my "sister", summoned an ancestor spirit that talked about twin brothers of the Mardu clan – you matched its descriptions fully. It refused to share anything other than that you were in grave danger until it could speak to one of you. That's why we went into the tunnels. Travelling above-ground would have been a huge mistake."

Arethe saw the movement in the shadows too late, an object blurring past her vision and slicing into the orc. She conjured up shields of Blue and White mana as more arrows, touched with the corruption of Sultai magic, thudded into it, corroding the Jeskai's defensive mana. Dragin snarled in pain, tearing the arrows out of his chest, but the poison had already sunk in.

He grabbed Jakhan as he slumped to his knees, trying to speak but the only sound that came out was a gurgle. Dragin slammed his fist in frustration on the ground, and died.

Jakhan drew his axe, the edge shining with the reflection of Arethe's rippling mana shield, and stood up sighting his enemy, vengeance in his brown eyes. There was a shambling horde of slavering zombies, rushing towards them, and behind that a hissing naga holding a golden bow that sparkled with dark auras. He launched venomous bolts at Arethe's shield, the defensive magic flickering and the Jeskai grimacing in concentration. He had to stop the undead from getting to her – maintaining the shield took most of her magic and without it they would be easy prey for the emerald naga archer.

Jakhan ran, swinging his axe in a cleaving arc and hacking through the zombies that quickly surrounded him. He could smell their putrid breath in the air as they tore at him in a frenzy, his leather deflecting some of the strikes. He focussed his anger at Dragin's death and shouted, a pulse of raw Red mana erupting from him and flinging some undead back.

The Mardu had been practising the spell for a quite some time, and while it was crude it served its purpose, distancing him from the Sultai. Jakhan swung his axe downwards at a corpse that attempted to get past him, and continued hacking at the rest of the mass. There was no strategy to the fight – it was kill or be killed, just how Jakhan liked it.

Arethe diverted some of her magic into a large wave of fire that incinerated a swathe of zombies – but there was too many. Jakhan felt like he was being overwhelmed and swung his axe frantically, trying desperately to get some space. He felt panic well up in his mind, and tried to quash it, but like the unrelenting tide of the dead, it kept on coming. One zombie waded through Arethe's scorching magic, its necrotic flesh melting from its bones, and a flash of Blue mana erupted from it.

The naga archer sprang forwards, and Arethe tried to somersault backwards as its scaled tail wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, Black and Blue mana oozing from it and clogging her thoughts. She screamed as the Sultai jabbed a fang into her shoulder, paralysing the Jeskai's body and causing her to spasm in pain.

"Arethe!" Jakhan shouted, ignoring the unmoving zombies and rushing towards the naga, his axe held high.

"You wouldn't want me to hurt her, would you?" a sibilant voice hissed, "Put down the axe and come peacefully, and the Jeskai wench will be unharmed,"

Jakhan stopped his charge, his face showing equal amounts of anger and fear for Arethe.

"Good, we wouldn't want the Mardu child to go on a tantrum," the naga laughed, caressing Arethe's hair tenderly and running its forked tongue down her neck. The youth stood still for a few seconds, loosening his grip on the weapon as the naga leaned forwards, atavistic greed glittering in its golden eyes. Jakhan threw the axe. Showing an incredible amount of physical strength, it arched through the air and sliced into the Sultai, green blood exploding from its eviscerated corpse as the heavy weapon bisected it. The Mardu ran over to Arethe, who lay slumped in the naga's unmoving tail, when he heard a sickening cracking sound.

The Sultai burst from its own corpse, drenched in glistening emerald fluid that glowed with an unnatural dark light. It launched itself at Jakhan, who was defenceless without his axe. He thrashed at it, throwing punches and kicks that bounced off the scales and elicited a hissing laugh from the naga.

The reptile grabbed onto him and smashed Jakhan into the ground, its muscles swelling with Green mana and stretching its new skin tight. Jakhan cried out in pain as the stone underneath him cracked under the force of the naga's grip. He rammed his head at the naga, but the Sultai snapped its neck sideways and dodged the blow. It shot forwards, and its venomous fangs clipped Jakhan's cheek just as he shoved its head away. The naga slithered onto him, and Jakhan tried to move to get away from the Sultai.

Agony shot through his limbs as he tried to move them, tears welling up in his brown eyes at the extreme pain.

"You thought you had killed me, you disgusting human," it jeered, laughing as Jakhan snarled in pain. Darkness swarmed around the edges of the Mardu's vision, and the last thing he felt was dead flesh seizing him and carrying him off.

.*.*.*.

Mana poured into Kaldros, revitalising him and filling the mage with a sensation of power – he felt far more powerful than ever before. He looked around him, seeing the room with greater clarity. Kaldros noticed a figure with a Blue and Red aura lying slumped against the wall, and remembered Meja, the older Jeskai boy healing him and tending to the Mardu. He knelt down and shook the larger adolescent, who suddenly snapped into action and jabbed a hand at Kaldros.

The albino caught the blow, his enhanced magic augmenting his lack of strength as Meja pulled away.

"Oh! Sorry about that," he apologised sheepishly, rubbing his head and grinning with embarrassment, "It was automatic."

"It's fine," Kaldros replied, and he smiled back, energy swirling around his slender half-naked form. "You healed me, after all. I'm not sure how I can repay you."

"I really didn't do much. It was the pendant," Meja admitted, looking around for the silver piece and nodding when Kaldros held it out to him. The Jeskai held his hands up, and exclaimed: "You keep it. It obviously reacts well with you."

Kaldros thanked him and fastened it around his neck, his playful red eyes lit up with the rejuvenating energies flowing through his body.

The sensation was interrupted by a sense of urgency that thrust itself to the forefront of Kaldros's consciousness – Jakhan was in danger! Meja sensed the sudden change in the younger boy's demeanour, and was about to ask Kaldros what was wrong, when the mage leapt upwards, smashing through the wooden roof in a burst of magic, wings trailing behind him.

"And here I was, thinking he was the more subtle of the twins," Meja muttered, and sprang through the gap in the timber, somersaulting across the rooftops and following the Mardu.


	10. Chapter 10

Kaldros flew through the air, ignoring the cold and looking down at the mass of colourful auras that made up Sarashak – he couldn't see his twin's familiar Red glow, but as he focussed past the distracting glows and saw deeper into the city, he could see an undertone of absolute darkness swallowing everything, like Sarashak was plunging into a black abyss from which there was no escape. Kaldros concluded that Jakhan must be at the heart of it, and so located the point where the darkness was the thickest, and plunged down from the sky towards it.

He could see small blotches of White mana being pressed back by the Black – some of the Abzan must have become aware of the canker under the city, but it would take far too long for the unstoppable clan to react fully, and they wouldn't have the numbers to combat the unknown threat alone. Kaldros landed next to a sewer grate in a back-alleyway, cracking the ancient stone as protective White mana absorbed the impact of his fall. A few street urchins scampered away from him, but apart from them the alley was unoccupied and quiet.

Kaldros waited for a moment as the presence he felt caught up with him. Meja leapt from a nearby rooftop and gracefully landed next to the albino, breathing heavily but otherwise not tired by his journey across the city. Kaldros admired the Jeskai's endurance, wondering just how much the Mardu could learn if they were not so blinded by their unrelenting need for warfare.

"Can you feel that, Meja?" he inquired, gesturing towards the grate and moving to take it off, reserving his magic for the inevitable battle that Jakhan must have got himself into. The Jeskai grabbed hold of it as well, and together they hauled the rusting metal clear.

"It's the Sultai," Meja replied, closing his eyes and sensing the cloying blackness emanating from the undercity, Kaldros looking back confused.

"There are Sultai here? I'd always assumed that they stuck to their jungles thanks to the stories the older warriors used to tell us about them."

"They have always been a part of Sarashak, occupying the lowest layers and supplying a workforce of undead to extend the construction of the undercity, while their Panjasi traders dazzle the noble families of the city with huge amounts of wealth and potential pleasures," his voice took on a tone of disgust as Meja continued, "Master Shintan and some of the other Jeskai have often objected to the fact that they have influence here, constantly warning the stupid council about the dangers of the Sultai,"

"It sounds like the council are being manipulated by the prospect of wealth," Kaldros mused, dreading the thought of having to go into the tunnels. The mage was quite claustrophobic, but it was more than that – the darkness would blind him, clogging his magical vision which had just been restored.

"We have to rescue Arethe and Jakhan!" Meja declared, and swung into the tunnels, jumping down the grate and ignoring the rungs that should be used to climb down. Kaldros hesitated for a few seconds, knowing that it was certainly a trap but thinking that there was no other way to save the two and stop the mysterious darkness from spreading. He leapt down after the impetuous Jeskai.

.*.*.*.

Zurgo eyed the fallen challenger with contempt, the last in a long line that wanted the position of Khan for themselves. The orc had professed that Zurgo had no right to rule the clan after his failure against the Temur, and challenged the terrifying ruler to single combat. It had taken one blow to crush the upstart. He knelt down next to the disembowelled challenger and decapitated him, his large, unnamed blade slicing through the tendons of the orc's neck. Zurgo ripped the head free and roared at the crowd that had gathered to watch the duel, or more aptly, the slaughter.

The white orc pushed the head onto a pike next to his gargantuan throne, where it joined many other skulls that had shared the same fate – quite a few were recent additions that were still in the midst of decomposition. The Khan's rage was obvious to see, the orc being the third challenger since the battle against the Temur. There were rumours of a cult springing up in his clan – they called themselves the Three Butchers and paid homage to the young softheel that had saved them on the battlefield.

Zurgo had personally led parties of loyal warriors to eliminate these dissenters, but every time he slaughtered a group of them more would spring up, like a many-headed hydra that just refused to stay dead. He sat down on his dragon-skull throne, focussing his rage and thinking of how to deal with the cult, when a breathless scout ran past his guards and straight towards him. One of the warriors pulled back his bow, an arrow notched, but Zurgo held his hand up, eager to hear what the runner had to say.

"My Khan!" he shouted, kneeling before the orc and panting for breath – he was only young, probably only recently earning his War-name.

"The Sultai invade us! Endless armies of zombies come from the west. We have already lost several outposts, and Screamreach has also been captured!"

Zurgo absorbed the information silently, and replied with: "You survived a battle,"

"Yes, my lord," the messenger answered, "I was at Screamreach. We were overwhelmed by a tide of undead led by a monstrous brute that could kill ogres in one hit,"

"You being here means that you fled the battle," Zurgo announced grimly, putting on a show of anger whilst in reality he was delighted with the turn of events.

"Yes, I left so that I could warn you of-" the scout was cut off when the orc slashed his blade into his chest, eviscerating the youth.

"Mardu do not flee!" the Khan roared, loud enough that Azal had to cover his ears to prevent being deafened by the bellow. "Muster the army. We take the fight to them!" he shouted, holding his bloody sword above him.

_So Sidisi has finally made her move, _Azal thought.

.*.*.*.

Vasjai slithered through the tunnels, followed by his staggering undead sibsig that carried the two repulsive humans deeper into the sewers. He had enjoyed humiliating the Mardu brat, and while his hatred of the creatures was not as deep as his sister Ethlashi's, the naga still felt great pleasure in causing them pain.

After a few minutes of progressing through the dark tunnels, Vasjai had brought the humans to their destination: a deep pit that surrounded a huge necropolis that had been there before the collapse of the ancient Sultai empire – a reminder of their power in ancient times, when the clans were all ruled under one banner. What Vasjai was doing here was one of the many schemes that would help restore the Sultai's rightful dominion over Tarkir.

The naga slid past hulking reanimated ogres that were covered in gold chains, ignoring their blank stares as the undead recognised their master. The interior of the necropolis comprised of two halves – the first were modelled like the pleasure palace of Qarsi, with most of it built upon prehistoric waterways that had always existed underneath Sarashak – the city itself was founded upon a bygone dominion of the imperial Sultai. This half of the territory entertained intoxicated noble guests of the council families in dazzling treasure cruises – they were blissfully unaware of the place's significance.

It was covered in tropical plants that were cultivated through unnatural means, as the climate of the place was not normally hot enough to sustain such organisms. Vasjai passed massive excavations filled with bloated crocodiles, the dead reptiles snapping their powerful jaws as they sensed the living flesh being carried past them.

"Soon, my pretties, soon you will feed," the naga soothed, his sibilant voice calming the eternally ravenous creatures. He continued through the decadent and opulent first half of the palace and moved into the second, more sinister section. While the part of Sultai territory in Sarashak that was open to the public was an imitation of Qarsi Palace, the second was more like the Ukud Necropolis – this was the domain of the necromancers and far worse.

Vasjai entered a central cavern that contained a large brown ziggurat surrounded by chanting figures wearing in dark robes and swathed in dark magic. The naga paid no attention to the humans and grabbed his two captives off of his decrepit retinue who slunk back into the shadows, awaiting further insturctions.

The Sultai dragged the youths up to the summit of the ziggurat on his own, feeling a slight sensation of fear as he reached the central dais. Sat on a golden throne surrounded by a cascade of glittering coins, the unfathomably evil rakshasa named Khemet purred at Vasjai's arrival. The cat-demon had white fur that was occasionally striped with black, and wore archaic and ostentatious golden plate that covered his furred body. He had a matching helm that had two holes that left the huge curling horns of Khemet unobstructed. The rakshasa's eyes were piercing slits of cruelty that had seen the extinction of civilisations and thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ah, my dear Vasjai, you have brought the captives," he murmured, his deep voice alluring but also full of murderous potential, and although the naga and demons had been allies for many years, Vasjai was still put on edge by Khemet's presence.

"Yes," he hissed, "This is only the beginning, but soon the Sultai empire will be restored!"

Jakhan woke with a start, thrashing in the iron grip of the naga – Khemet laughed, the hideous sound splitting the air with a mixture of malice and temptation that hurt and seduced Jakhan in the same instant.

"Go, Vasjai, muster the legions and see to the coming Abzan. I will tend our current and future guests," Khemet commanded, and the naga dumped the humans on the floor of the dais and slithered away, glaring maliciously at the Mardu warrior.

Jakhan could barely move as the cat demon slowly pace towards him, the overwhelming sweet scent of the being filling his mind with visions – unlike the Butcher's brutish images of violence that spoke to his inner anger, the rakshasa's aura showed Jakhan dreams that reflected his ambition. He shook off the images of conquest and glory, spitting: "I know of your kind, demon. I will not fall prey to your seductions and lies!"

"Oh?" purred Khemet, "I wasn't even trying. I couldn't be less interested in you – you are simply a tool that I will use to entice my true prize." The demonic feline looked upwards and laughed: "He should be here very soon. I can feel his power,"

.*.*.*.

Meja suddenly stopped running, and Kaldros bumped into him, confused as to why the Jeskai had halted.

"Why-" his question was muffled as the older boy quickly placed one hand around the albino's mouth and the other putting a finger to his own lips.

"Shush," he whispered, pointing towards a group of undead led by a muscular human that shouted impatiently at the staggering corpses in a section of the sewers below them. He released Kaldros, and pulled out a strange ribbon-like piece of fabric.

"I will attack from the front, and then you can follow up when they are distracted-" Meja blinked in surprise as Kaldros leapt down from their vantage point and into the midst of the attackers.

The young boy released a blast of incandescent flame that the Jeskai student recognised as being a mixture of soul- and bloodfire and incinerated the Sultai undead. The human raised a shield of counter-magic that deflected some of the blistering inferno, and was about to fire a missile of poisonous energy at the Mardu, but was interrupted when Meja's cloth-blade arced down into him, gracefully slicing through the offending arm. He whipped it back across the Sultai's face before he had even landed, the weapon killing the man almost instantly. The second Meja landed, the explosion of blood from his two strikes erupted from the man, and he elegantly sheathed the weapon before grabbing Kaldros.

"That was incredibly reckless," he admonished, trying and failing to sound stern when in actual fact he was awed at the speed of the magic, and the younger boy smiled back at him.

"We have no time to waste. Besides, I knew you would back me up," Kaldros replied, swiftly turning and shooting off down the tunnel. Now that he was in the miasma of darkness that clogged his magical sight, the young mage couldn't sense anything but the location of his twin, which he set off towards. Kaldros felt incredibly vulnerable in his half-naked state, and wished that he had taken the time to put some more clothes on before impetuously setting off.

Meja ran to catch up with him, quickly outpacing the smaller teen and skidding round a corner. He could hear the echoing sound of battle unfolding, shouted war-cries coupling with the clash of blades and the moaning of the dead. The Jeskai ran into a gigantic passageway, and at the end of it a large engagement was taking place.

He could see phalanxes of scale-armoured warriors clashing with a mass of writhing sibsig backed up by howling apes that swung from the pipes and into the fray. In the centre of the battle, a human mage that summoned ancestor spirits duelled with an emerald naga wielding a heavily-enchanted golden bow. The Abzan were slowly being overwhelmed by the unrelenting tide of dead, and Meja yanked Kaldros back to him as the young mage ran past, shouting: "We have to help them!"

Kaldros shook his head grimly, and Meja's mouth gaped open in shock. It was anathema for Jeskai to leave anyone in need of help, and Meja was surprised at the young mage's abject lack of compassion.

"Feel free to stop and help them, but I have to save Jakhan, I can't be delayed any more," Kaldros replied urgently, shaking off the Jeskai who placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"May the Eye guide you," he intoned, making the symbol above the Mardu's forehead with his hand. Kaldros grinned back, making a pair of wings with outstretched palms.

"May the Wings carry you to safety," he replied, and turned around without another word, running down a side passageway and bypassing the desperate engagement. Meja shook his head dolefully, sad at the fact he had to leave the young mage on his own, and leapt into the battle.


	11. Chapter 11

Meja ran into the combat, mistfire spraying about him in a distracting display as he released the Blue mana he had built up. The Jeskai flipped backwards, uncoiling his cloth-whip and dismembering a zombie that swung at him, a foetid spray of liquid jetting out from the undead and spattering on the hard stone. He kicked another one away from him, knowing that he had to get to the Abzan mage to help her against the naga. The Abzan soldiers hacked into the undead swarming around them, refusing to give any ground but slowly being overwhelmed by the tide of corpses flowing into them. It did not matter that they had infinitely better fighting skill, or superior armour and weapons, or were enchanted with White and Green mana.

The sandcaller had obviously realised this – knowing that the naga leading the horde was the linchpin of the Sultai offence, and that the mass of sibsig would lose all direction and cohesion without his malicious influence. Meja thought it was the right thing for her to do to try to eliminate the naga, but clearly had not considered the Sultai to be as strong as it was.

The mage spun about, nullifying venomous bolts shot from the golden bow, and flung conjured sand at the naga. With a condescending laugh, the serpent snuffed out the magic, slithering forwards and warping its body at the Abzan leader, his bones snapping and readjusting as he shot into attack at a frightening speed. A scale-clad warrior threw herself at the naga, who backhanded her with bone-shattering force, crushing the woman inside with her own armour as she skidded across the floor.

Meja jumped onto the back of a reanimated corpse, using it as propulsion and leaping at the naga. At the same time, the Abzan mage released a shrieking disowned ancestor spirit at the serpent, distracting the naga who concentrated on weaving counter-spells that would return the ghost to the realm of the dead. Meja aimed his ribbon-blade at an unarmoured piece of scale in the back of the Sultai's neck, attempting to strike a nerve cluster that was present in most humanoids. As the naga dispelled the Abzan's magic, the Jeskai stuck, striking once, twice, three times. The serpent screeched in agony as green blood burst from its wounds, and snapped its limbs at unnatural angles, catching Meja as he flipped backwards and slamming the youth into the floor. The damage of the impact was prevented by a soft carpet of sand that cushioned his fall.

The Jeskai sprung back to his feet, and was joined by the Abzan mage, hatred prevalent in her golden eyes that shone from within with magical power.

"My name is Iniedra, friend," she stated, her voice slightly shaken but consumed by a steely determination to destroy the naga and expunge the Sultai from Sarashak.

"I'm Meja of the Jeskai," the boy replied, keen to waste no more time with pleasantries. The serpent emitted an amused chuckle and hissed:

"I am known as Vasjai, although I will be known to you as "Master" when you are part of my legion!"

Blue displacement magic surrounded his bow, and it teleported away, to be replaced by two melee weapons – one a short, curved scimitar, the other a pole-arm topped at both ends by fan-shaped blades. Meja felt Iniedra channelling powerful magic next to him, knowing that he should distract Vasjai while so she could prepare her spell.

"This is going to be fun," the naga cackled.

.*.*.*.

Kaldros shot through the humid corridors of the undercity, his running speed enhanced by Red and White enchantments. The young mage had met countless more parties of Sultai and quickly obliterated them – his magic was amplified by the strength of his emotions and the sensation of power he had felt back at the inn had increased hugely. His temper was short, the concern he felt for his brother mixing with the fear he felt in the dark sewers.

He followed the beacon of his brother's aura through the miasma of darkness that consumed his magical vision, Jakhan's light getting easier to detect the closer he got. Kaldros sprinted out into a gargantuan cavern – at its centre was an ancient Sultai palace that yawned open like a treasure chest of forbidden desire. Kaldros had never seen that much opulence before – and that was on the outside of an underground palace not even in Sultai territory. The Mardu could barely imagine the amount of wealth the clan had built up, as his own clan rarely used currency, preferring to simply take what they wanted.

He heard a loud screech and snapped his head up, instantly aware and charging up Red mana. Small, winged figures dove from the upper points of the necropolis, Kaldros picking out the Fang of the Dragon symbol on pieces of tattered cloth around the avens' chests. They were malnourished, rangy creatures that lacked the majesty of the Mardu rocs or the mystery of the Temur aven shamans, and carried short spears that would be used to pick off lone targets. They had probably been waiting for interlopers, as their wings weren't of much use in the claustrophobic tunnels. The scavengers had seen Kaldros and mistaken him for easy prey due to his small frame and apparent fragility.

The mage released a bolt of incandescent flame that caught one of the bird men square in the chest, incinerating him and igniting his closest ally. The largest aven, probably the leader, squawked urgently at the rest of its flock. As Kaldros narrowly missed one of the Sultai with a tongue of fire, the other seven of them spread out, greatly reducing the chance that more than one would be killed in a single spell.

Kaldros stood his ground, knowing that he could run back into the tunnels but much preferring to take his chances with the enemies and press on to Jakhan. He just had time to conjure up White armour encasing his thin body and twin blades of darkness before the aven were upon him. The Sultai attacked from all angles, scratching at the ethereal plates and denting them, leaving Kaldros unharmed - for now.

The albino swung about him with the blades, the Black mana sapping the life from the living aven whenever he struck them. He blocked a spear thrust, Kaldros's auras giving him extra strength, and plunged his blades upwards into a creature's sternum, quickly murdering it. Another aven barrelled into him, almost knocking the boy off his feet as a different bird rammed a rusted blade into a dented piece of enchanted armour. Kaldros yelped in pain as the spear's tip punctured the magic and cut open his side, red blood the colour of his eyes spilling out down his pale chest.

Kaldros snarled, abandoning his conjurations and instead focussing the mana into a summoning of hundreds of blades that swirled around him for a few seconds, eviscerating the aven assaulting him in a storm of red steel, spattering blood and feathers everywhere. Kaldros breathed heavily and wiped the vitae from his eyes, when a huge creature slammed into him, knocking him into the stone floor and winding him.

The largest aven had refrained from the combat, sacrificing his underlings and waiting for the right moment to strike. It pinned Kaldros down and stuck a curved dagger into his right shoulder, the agonising paralysis toxins running down the boy's bloodstream and causing him to howl in torture. The aven shrieked and snapped its beak down at Kaldros, who moved his own head to the side. The Mardu writhed in pain as the aven twisted the dagger, the boy's ineffectual thrashing doing little to hurt it.

Kaldros found that he couldn't use magic, the blade nullifying his attempts to concentrate mana. His panic rose as the aven leader dug its claws into his stomach, raking long gashes across the pale flesh. Then the Sultai made its mistake. The move was made quickly, but to Kaldros's adrenaline fuelled mind, it took centuries to complete. The aven suddenly pulled out the dagger, intending to slit the boy's throat with the jewelled knife in a downwards swipe, but as soon as the main block on his mana was removed, the magic that Kaldros had been trying to generate exploded out of him at full force.

A massive pillar of light extended upwards from the mage, destroying the aven and healing most of Kaldros's wounds, although the scar in his right shoulder made by the dagger still remained. The poison was gone though, and Kaldros slowly got to his feet, feeling nauseas as the effects of the adrenaline rush wore off. He swayed slightly, panting for breath and feeling weak.

_I really am hopeless... _he thought, knowing that he had almost died and he hadn't even breached the palace yet. Kaldros shook his head and walked inside the palace, preparing spells and charging up mana inside of him.

.*.*.*.

Jakhan winced as he saw the aven's spear pierce his brother's guard, and watched Kaldros slaughter his attackers in a spinning tempest of swords. He viewed his brother through a sphere of energy conjured by Khemet, who was intently observing the fight. The rakshasa had ensnared the older twin in chains of shadow, and proceeded sit down on the throne and almost completely ignore his prisoners. Jakhan had tried to fight back for many minutes, but soon realised it was hopeless and was reserved to helplessly watch his brother battle his way through innumerable Sultai dead to get to him.

"Kaldros!" he shouted, as the larger aven warlord swooped down onto his unaware twin.

"Quiet," the rakshasa calmly ordered, scrunching up his fist and constricting the chains around Jakhan, not even looking at the boy. Arethe was still unconscious next to him, also wrapped in the Sultai demon's magic, and Khemet had told the anxious Mardu that the venom Vasjai had infected her with was slowly killing her, delighting in the look of powerlessness on the adolescent's face. Jakhan felt frustrated and completely useless with the dying Jeskai next to him and his fraternal twin being hurt outside of the palace.

All his life he had thought he was the strong one of the two, his physical strength and his confidence matched with his brother's lack of both made it easy for him to assume the dominant role, looking down on Kaldros and treating him like a much younger sibling, instead of someone the same age. It was especially easy to boss him around, as Carrok had ignored Kaldros, so when they were slightly younger Jakhan didn't really know how to treat his smaller twin These last few days, with his twin's outburst in the battle with the Temur and now fighting his way through Sultai territory, Jakhan was slowly beginning to rethink his view of Kaldros.

"Why are you doing this?" Jakhan asked, not really expecting an answer but figuring that any information could help in his current situation.

"Oh, this?" the rakshasa purred, "This is just a little test, to make sure your brother is ready. If he dies now, then I will have to proceed with the second plan."

"Ready for what? Why are you so obsessed with Kaldros?" Jakhan was extremely concerned for his brother, as attracting a demon's attention was something you certainly did not want to do, and Kaldros had already courted with three.

"You shall see," Khemet smiled at Jakhan's obvious anger at the rakshasa manipulating his younger brother, his eyes widening in hunger as he saw the albino annihilate the aven commander with the release of a colossal amount of mana.

"Don't worry, dear Jakhan, now that your precious little brother has passed that test, there will be no more obstructions until he gets here. Then we can have a cute little reunion – isn't that what you want?" Khemet's laughter boomed across the cavern containing the necropolis, and Jakhan secretly willed for Kaldros to turn around and leave.

.*.*.*.

Vasjai flung himself at Iniedra and Meja, his scintillating blades tracing arcs of death in the air as he shot forwards with amazing speed. Meja leapt to intercept him, somersaulting and twisting to avoid the weaving blades in the Riverwalk technique, which emulated flowing water and allowed Meja to slide past the curved weapons. The flat side of the sword caught him unawares, smacking him back into the ground, where he landed on all fours, regretting that he hadn't practised much with the technique and focussed more on offensive styles.

The naga was attacking him again, almost no break in the aggression, which Meja found shocking. He had always assumed the Sultai were manipulative uses of forbidden spells that would avoid direct combat unless it was in their favour, but Meja could tell from Vasjai's fighting style that he lived for close combat, acting more like a Mardu clan member than one of the Sultai. He narrowly dodged the curved glaive which shattered the hard stone on impact, the serpent's immense strength growing every second as his Green enchantments gained more and more power. His blades also grew with him, the sword now more like a huge cleaver.

The naga was now almost twice his original size and still expanding, Vasjai's movements cracking the ground as he pressed the attack against Meja. The blades lashed into the stricken Jeskai, who disappeared into mist and reappeared behind the naga. He punched into its back, his hands alight in the Dragonfist method of combat – his favourite. He landed one burning punch, and then a second, before Vasjai shouted, spikes tipped with corrosive acid launching from his back and into the Jeskai student.

Meja smashed the spikes away from him, but was distracted long enough for Vasjai to catching him with the edge of the sword. Meja cried out in pain and fell to the floor, blood pumping out of his left arm and wincing in anticipation of the deadly toxins probably coating the Sultai's blades. Vasjai laughed, slithering towards the downed Jeskai and grinning in expectation of the murder of the annoying brat.

"You'll find that these blades are not poisoned," he said to the surprised Meja, who stood up as Vasjai continued, "I am not like my fellow naga kin, I much prefer to engage challenging foes in single combat, not by silently killing them – where is the fun in that? However, my weapons are enchanted – they prevent those struck by them from using deceitful magic until the wielder or the afflicted is dead. No more tricks, Jeskai. Now we fight properly."

Vasjai was famed within his clan for his distaste of what he deemed to be cowardly magic, and when he slew Orfan Windstrike, the naga had the Mardu's swords melted down into more elegant weapons that still retained their original purpose – to be used against Blue mana wielders. Vasjai had utilised his new armaments to great effect slaying potential rivals, most, if not all of his fellow Sultai clan members unable to combat him without their tricks.

The naga came at the Jeskai student in a whirlwind of sharp metal, Meja hard pressed to avoid the extremely large reach of the now-gargantuan weapons. He blocked the arcing pole-arm with fiery crossed arms, sparks flaring up from the impact and the ground cracking underneath his feet under the weight of the blow.

Vasjai's tail lashed out, Meja jumping over it and making him take another swipe, this one square in the chest, as his wounded arm slowed him down. The Jeskai yelled in pain, his vision blurring due to the loss of blood, and the naga moved in for the kill.

A loud chant interrupted him, and shields of White and Green mana blocked the Sultai's downward slash, and Vasjai shrieked in frustration as a defensive cocoon of magic blocked him from the downed Meja. He was now around four times his first size, his reptilian body expanding at an unstable rate with the Green mana left unchecked. Abzan mana flowed out across the battlefield, enhancing and rejuvenating the embattled soldiers and giving their weapons the power to permanently slay the dead.

Vasjai spun around, turning on Iniedra, who was still locked in a trance casting her spell, and charged towards her. However, he was soon stopped, all the Abzan soldiers that remained in the cavern blocking his way. Their armour glittered with the spiritcaller's powerful enchantments, and Vasjai noticed that he no longer had any sibsig undead under his command. He looked down at the warriors, battered, but still determined to protect their leader and their eyes lit with hatred of the naga.

Growling in vexation as he realised that there were far too many Abzan to handle alone, Vasjai suddenly cracked down to his original size and shot off down a side passageway, cursing in frustration. Some of her soldiers, emboldened by their victory, went to chase down the Sultai warlord, but Iniedra waved a placating hand and moved towards the wounded Meja.


	12. Chapter 12

Jakhan glared at the sniggering Khemet, wishing that he could wipe the smirk off the rakshasa's furred face and bury his axe in it. The demon was now absently twirling the said weapon, intently observing several spheres of energy showing different scenes of violence – in the centre of them was Kaldros's progression through the necropolis's imitation of Qarsi Palace, the luxurious pleasure houses increasing in extravagance as he got closer to the other side. Kaldros looked fragile and weak in his half-naked state, and his brother wondered why he wasn't wearing anything.

Jakhan pried his eyes away from Kaldros, and looked at the other moving images of combat – the Sultai were obviously making an attack on the entire city, as many of the scenes showed locations from all around Sarashak. The Mardu grimaced as a contingent of local guards was slaughtered by an ambush of darting Sultai assassins that split up the Sarashans before killing them one by one. A small group of Jeskai monks, djinn and human, desperately fought against a snake-like and elegant hydra, the hooded heads hissing as they struck unexpectedly.

Similar scenes of battle were repeated throughout the city, the full might of the Sultai being unfolded against the neutral Sarashans, the corrupt councillors doing nothing to prevent the clan from building up their power in secret. Although they seemed to be winning overall, Jakhan still grinned as he saw Meja and some Abzan soldiers defeating the arrogant naga that had captured him and Arethe earlier in the day. The teenagers growled as Vasjai escaped from his pursuers, the Abzan mage that must have been Iniedra halting her soldiers and aiding the wounded Meja instead.

"It seems we will soon be having a visitor," Khemet purred, as Kaldros came into the replica of ancient Ukud.

.*.*.*.

The younger twin had just passed over a suspended walkway above a huge pit full of snapping, necrotic crocodiles, their foetid jaws covered in dismembered limbs and old blood. Kaldros ran through a series of humid chambers that were filled with strange and exotic pieces of machinery built for a purpose that the young Mardu could only guess at. These pleasure houses were filled with wide-eyed and intoxicated nobles draped in finery that were completely unaware of his passage.

Kaldros stopped to feel the pulse of one particularly corpulent councillor. His fat throat was cold, and the albino staggered back with horror as he realised the man was dead. _Just what kind of "pleasure" is on offer here? _he thought with revulsion for the Sultai. He apprehensively paced into another room and then instantly shut his eyes, the amount of vile debauchery on show penetrating the dark miasma clouding his magical sense and making the boy want to vomit.

Although the fact that he hadn't been challenged so far confirmed Kaldros's suspicions of this venture being a trap, he was glad that there were no more enemies as the bloody wound in his right arm hurt like hell. It throbbed violently, ignoring the mage's attempts to nullify the pain with soothing White mana.

Kaldros felt the feeling of corruption pass away from him, being replaced by an aura of absolute darkness – he had come to the source of the Black mana reverberating throughout Sarashak. A monolithic stone door blocked his way, engraved with sinister symbols that made his eyes sting as he glanced over them. At the centre of the portal was a carved representation of the Fang of the Dragon, although it was with a slightly different design to the ones worn by modern Sultai clansmen. Kaldros knew that this underground palace had been around for thousands of years, but the Mardu didn't know much about any other clan's history, Kaldros once again wishing that his clan valued knowledge as much as the other clans.

The albino placed his palm to the door, sensing the roiling darkness swirling around his brother's faint light inside. The portal was far too large to be open by a human, especially one as weak as Kaldros, so instead the mage focussed White mana into the door. When that did nothing, he tried a large flame of Red mana which sparked explosively when it hit the enchantments on the door, but left it unscathed.

Smiling grimly, Kaldros brought his Black mana to the fore – he hated using it individually instead of in combinations with other spells, as the incident where he had almost killed his now-dead father had made Kaldros fear what he could do with it on its own. It wasn't the fact that it was difficult to use or control – in fact, he found Red and White mana to be much more stubborn – it was how natural it felt to use it, and how addictive the feeling was. His palms were surrounded in shadow and once again he touched the doorway, the symbols not lighting up with shining darkness and the huge portal slowly swaying open.

.*.*.*.

Jakhan watched as Khemet finally tore his eyes away from his vision-spheres and swung his head towards the doorway at the bottom of the cavern holding the ziggurat, the malevolent slits glittering with avarice and anticipation as the portal slowly opened. Instantaneously, a bolt of incandescent flame smashed into the rakshasa, who absorbed it with a void of nothingness that gaped open without so much as a small gesture from Khemet.

Kaldros slammed onto the dais, shimmering wings framing his slender shoulders as he thrust with a spear of light at the golden armoured cat. Khemet released a deep-throated laugh and smashed the ethereal weapon aside with Jakhan's axe in his left hand and blocked with his right as the albino twisted and swung a kick of fiery Red mana at him. The rakshasa deflected the blow with his wrist and backhanded the boy, who crashed into the stone next to Jakhan and flipped to his feet.

"Kaldros!" the older twin shouted as his brother emitted a pulse of erasing White mana which freed his brother and Arethe from the chains, the Jeskai slumping to the floor as Jakhan rose to his feet. Khemet stood up from his throne, which disappeared as though it never existed.

"You cut me deep, young mage," the rakshasa sulked, his eyes still glinting in expectation, "I have been waiting all this time for you to pay a visit, and the first thing you do is attack me? How very rude," Khemet taunted, slowly pacing around the edge of the plateau as the humans were in the centre, the twins' hate filled eyes tracking him and watching for any offensive movements.

"I was thinking that we might be able to have a little chat before the violence started, but now I suppose the plan has to go into action," the demon stated, false regret dripping from his voice as he weaved smouldering sigils into the air. The rakshasa suddenly teleported away, leaving the brothers looking around in confusion, Jakhan's axe clattering to the floor. They both looked across at the other side of the cavern as a deep, rumbling sound echoed across the space, and a medium-sized passageway was opened up in the rock.

"_However, I promised dear Jakhan that he could have a happy reunion with his little brother," _Khemet's sibilant voice pierced into their minds, causing Jakhan to grunt and Kaldros to whimper in pain.

"_After that, I want Kaldros to go into the passage – alone. Any interference from you or the girl and you will both die painful and horrible deaths, and that would be very unfortunate, wouldn't it?" _blood leaked from Kaldros's nose and he fell to his knees holding his head, the demon's presence in his magically-attuned mind much more agonising than it was in Jakhan's, as the demon had to increase the pressure so that the larger boy could hear. The older twin reassuringly held his younger brother, as Khemet continued.

"_Also, to stop you from wasting time and making me get bored, you have five minutes. If Kaldros has not entered the tunnel by then, Jakhan and the girl will meet the fate described already – and none of us want that, do we?" _his voice suggesting otherwise, the rakshasa ended his connection with the twins.

"Bastard," Jakhan spat, and turned Kaldros round to face him, quickly pulling the smaller-boy forwards into a crushing hug.

"Ow, my arm!" Kaldros yelped, and Jakhan put him down, smiling sheepishly.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Jakhan said, at the same time Kaldros spoke: "I'm happy you're not hurt,"

Both of the twins laughed, before Kaldros looked down at the stricken Arethe and moved towards her, healing magic flaring up from his palms. He quickly expunged the poison from her veins and colour returned to the girl's cheeks.

"You can't seriously be thinking of going in there," Jakhan stated, addressing the issue on both their minds.

"Of course I am," Kaldros replied angrily, irritated at the fact that his brother would even suggest otherwise.

"If you go in, Khemet will kill you. Or worse," Jakhan's voice was filled with concern for his brother.

"I can't just let you two die when I know that I can stop it. Anyway, if the situation was reversed, you would be doing the same thing as me," Kaldros shot back, getting to his feet and looking Jakhan straight in the eyes, his red orbs full of determination. He softened his tone and continued: "Jakhan, stop worrying about me so much. I'll be fine, big brother."

"Promise you'll come back," Jakhan pleaded, once again feeling helpless and grabbing onto his twin's shoulders.

Kaldros smiled, and replied: "I will try," as he shook of his brother's grip and turned towards the yawning passageway.

"The bastard won't know what hit him," Jakhan declared, trying to mask his concern with boisterous enthusiasm and giving his brother a playful shove, taking care not to hurt his wounded arm. Kaldros leapt down the ziggurat and turned around at the entrance, winking at Jakhan. He then stepped through.

The second he did, a resounding crash echoed throughout the cavern, and Jakhan shouted as a wall of rock slammed down, cutting off the twins.

"Kaldros!" he yelled, smashing his fists against the solid rock.

.*.*.*.

"_I knew that you would make the right choice, dear Kaldros," _the hissing voice of the rakshasa spoke into his mind, though with less force this time, as the impenetrable barrier crashed down behind him.

"Shut up," Kaldros growled, slowly walking through the tunnel of rock that had clearly been made and sealed up in a bygone age. He could sense Khemet's malignant power emanating from a distance in front of him, but also something else – something majestic and terrifying in equal measures.

He scrambled over a piece of rubble blocking his path and entered a cuboid chamber, conjuring up a small light so he could see his surroundings. Kaldros gasped as he illuminated the walls – tens, if not hundreds of ornate sarcophagi lined the walls, each one with huge amounts of magical energy inside. He emerged into another cavern, this one with a thin bridge of stone connecting it to the other side. He shone the light downwards, and breathed heavily as he saw an obscene amount of corpses – most of them still looked fresh, and Kaldros sensed preservative enchantments cast all over the place.

"Wha...What is this place?" he asked, almost unable to comprehend the vast amounts of corpses littering the floor.

"_It was the site of an ancient battle, one of the worst defeats of the Sultai empire, several thousand years ago – when dragons still ruled the skies and humanity was mostly under one banner," _Khemet chimed in,

"_The imperial army was soundly defeated by a host led by a renegade commander, as he had a secret weapon that they could never have expected. Eventually, the army defeated the traitor, but at the biggest loss of troops they had ever suffered. The surviving generals were executed on the spot and buried here, the imperial masters lying to the public, telling them that they died in battle to try to keep their fragile control of the people. They employed powerful geomancers and chasm-magi to seal the site of the battle shut, removing the embarrassing encounter from the face of Tarkir. They also murdered the mages they recruited, as had any in the public found out there would have been mass rebellions. They then built the palace above it, supposedly to honour the generals but actually to prevent explorers from finding the burial ground."_

Kaldros silently processed this information and carefully across the bridge, Khemet continuing with his history lecture:

"_The anaerobic conditions of the sealed tomb kept the corpses in the perfect state for reanimation, so when the Sultai of Sarashak found the place only a few years ago they cast the preservation spells so they could use the undead in their plans."_

Kaldros stepped onto the other side of the chasm and walked into another tunnel, the terrifying aura he felt now eclipsing that of the demon's.

"_Almost there now, young Kaldros," _the rakshasa purred, and the mage emerged onto a ridge that overlooked another drop. Khemet was waiting for him there, his golden armour glinting malevolently in the light conjured by Kaldros.

The Mardu launched blinding orbs of light at the demon, who sighed disappointedly and batted them away, the magic detonating as they hit the walls.

"Again with the needless violence, Kaldros. You disappoint me sometimes, although you have not yet earned the wisdom of age. Come," he ordered, turning around and walking towards the edge of the ridge, "I have something fascinating to show you,"

Kaldros followed the rakshasa, knowing that the demon would fight him when it was ready, although he kept far away from it. Khemet stopped and raised his hands, illumination filling the chamber. Kaldros screamed in primal terror as a wave of panic swept through him, and he staggered backwards, falling onto his back as Khemet laughed, the deep booming noise entirely ignored by the Mardu.

"Majestic, is it not?" the rakshasa boomed, and Kaldros tried to turn away but found that his eyes were fixed on the creature. The dragon was a gargantuan, scaled beast that evoked a sense of absolute fear in the young mage, and even though it was clearly dead because of the huge wound in its side it stilled carried an exalted and predatory grace about it. Its dead eyes still shone with a sublime wisdom mixed with an all-consuming hunger.

"This is why you were brought here. To re-animate such a beast, one would require the soul of a Khan, or a person equally as powerful. As even the whole force of the Sultai would be unable to capture a Khan without being destroyed in their own right, we needed to find an alternative – that is where you come in. The Sultai want me to sacrifice you to bring a dragon under their control."

"Assuming that I am as powerful as a Khan, which is unlikely, why are you wasting time telling me this? Why don't you just kill me and go ahead with the reanimation?" Kaldros questioned, and Khemet smiled.

"Note that I said that the Sultai wish to sacrifice you. My own goals are different to theirs. Instead, I wish for you to side with me – with our combined power, anything could be possible!"

"And why would I do that?" Kaldros asked, his voice full of incredulity.

.*.*.*.

Jakhan pounded his fists on the door, but it was no use – the rock refused to budge. He sank to his knees, deciding to wait for Kaldros, when a voice rang out from the ziggurat.

"Jakhan?" Arethe shouted, urgency in her tone, and the Mardu ran up the to the dais, eager to see if Arethe was alright or not. He stopped when he saw the girl coming down towards him, holding his axe in her hands – the blade was alive with magical energy, and Arethe held it out to him.

"Where did you get the axe?" she demanded suddenly, and the confused Jakhan answered with: "It was my dad's, he gave it to me when I was 8 years old, though it has never looked like this before..." he broke off as the light from the blade became blinding when he touched it.

Jakhan felt power flow through him, a sensation that somehow felt familiar although he had never experienced this before. Arethe stood open-mouthed as Red and White mana swirled around the Mardu, encasing his limbs in plates of augmenting energy and making him feel more powerful than ever before.

The Jeskai recognised the magic but didn't say anything as Jakhan swung his axe at the stone blocking him from his brother, smashing it apart in an explosion of stone – his already formidable physical strength was vastly improved by the hidden enchantments of the axe, and the Mardu instantly ran into the passageway. Arethe resigned to thinking about the source of the magic after the coming battle, shrugged, and ran after Jakhan.

.*.*.*.

"Dear Kaldros, do you really think that I would be stupid enough not to have a good reason for you to join me?" Khemet laughed, "I will show you why you should take my offer." The rakshasa brought his palms close together, mystical energies flowing between them as Kaldros saw reality being replaced by a blurry vision. Kaldros was powerless to resist the demon's magic, and he fell to his knees as reality faded away, and Khemet placed his furred hands on the boy's head.

Just as the vision was about to start, a figure charged into the concentrating rakshasa, knocking him over and freeing the younger twin from the magic. Kaldros's vision snapped back into the real world, and he heard Jakhan's voice shouting: "Get your hands off him!"

"Insolent child!" the rakshasa shrieked; for a second its voice lost its human qualities and became more of a primal scream. Khemet punched Jakhan with a fist shrouded in the deepest darkness, but the Kaldros's brother's new armour held, and Jakhan pushed the demon away from him.

"Are you alright?" Arethe inquired, running to his side, and Kaldros nodded his head and got to his feet, disgusted that he would even consider listening to the rakshasa's proposal. Jakhan ran back towards them and Kaldros noticed the runes on his axe flaring up and the plates of crimson energy on his brother.

"I like the new look," Kaldros said, extremely glad that Jakhan had been there to disrupt Khemet's magic – the demon now stood up to his full height, his false display of sociability gone.

"It is such a shame, but now I will have to kill you all and go ahead with Sidisi's boring plan," he smiled, and brought his arms up, Black mana pouring from the rakshasa and rushing into the group. Arethe summoned a defensive shield of shimmering Blue mana and Kaldros reinforced it with his own magic. Together they warded off Khemet's magic, but the rakshasa had more in store for them. Opening up three gates into the realm of the Sidikur, a swirling existence populated by demons and horrors, Khemet pushed forwards and laughed as the three demons answered his call. One was a spindly, decrepit creature with four arms and huge bat wings, the second was a lumbering behemoth with a gargantuan mouth that spewed toxic fumes, and the final was a strange, whip like thing dripping with enigmatic golden fluid that Khemet grabbed and wielded as a weapon.

"Arethe, you get big-mouth over there. Little bro, I want you to kill the one with wings," Jakhan ordered, continuing when Kaldros looked like he was going to object, "No buts, I'll delay Khemet while you two get the horrors, then we can fight him together. Let's go!"


	13. Chapter 13

Arethe leapt into action, somersaulting past a spray of corrosive liquid belched by the mouth-with-legs and kicking it in the side, her foot surrounded in her speciality – erasing magic that had been taught to her by master Shintan. The pure White mana burned the demon, and it roared in pain, its small eyes on each of its four legs filling with blood.

She struck again with her palms, the Eye of the Dragon tattooed there flaring up with mana as her skin touched the horror's moist flesh. Arethe dodged a lumbering kick by rolling to the side and suspending the bloated limb up with glittering crystals of soulfire that held it in mid-air. She was far too quick for the behemoth, which staggered around, clumsily trying to attack her as the Jeskai released a jet of water which slammed into the thing.

One of its eyes charged up mana for a second, and then a beam of dark energy shot out, almost clipping Arethe on the shoulder and freeing its leg from the suspension field as the student blasted the demon with another cascade of Blue mana.

Arethe then charged up Red magic and fire burst out of her and into the horror, evaporating the water she had drenched on it in an explosion of steam that scorched the flesh from its bones. She looked to see how the twins were faring – Kaldros seemed to be on the brink of victory, having annihilated the demon's resistance in a devastating aerial battle. However, Jakhan was in desperate need of help, Khemet and his living demon-whip wounding him deeply even with his new and increased strength. The rakshasa was clearly toying with him, waiting for the older twin to get back to his feet before knocking him over again.

Arethe could see her enemy writhing in pain, and jumped high into the air, keen to administer the finishing blow and to aid Jakhan. She landed on it and dodged its serrated tongue that swiped at her desperately, and conjured up a banishing ritual, attempting to send the creature back from whence it came. As the White mana coalesced around the girl, the horror suddenly exploded, drenching her in foul-smelling liquid. A mass of maggots erupted from the demon, swarming around her and interrupting her channelling.

She fell onto the ground, desperately trying to complete the spell as the vile mass started to crush Arethe into the floor. And then, it was gone. Kaldros smiled down at her, the purifying light fading from his hands and the last remnants of the creature were destroyed.

"Thanks!" Arethe exclaimed as the albino helped her up, "Now lets help Jakhan,"

"Finally, I'll be able to fight Kaldros, dear Jakhan here is incredibly boring," the rakshasa jeered and launched a series of lightning-fast strikes with his living whip against the older twin's guard, who grunted in pain and fell back to the relative safety of his comrades.

Khemet purred in delight as Kaldros fired several bolts of crackling electricity at the demon, who conjured up a mirror-like wall of Blue mana and deflected them back at Jakhan, who was protected by Arethe. Kaldros jumped at Khemet, slicing the air with twin blades of light and darkness. He brought them together when the demon blocked, creating a huge explosion of the opposite mana types of White and Black.

Khemet screamed in pain and was removed from existence, Kaldros suddenly snapped around as he realised with a shock that he had been tricked. The demon teleported behind Jakhan and Arethe, tracing burning sigils in the air with his whip.

The albino shouted a warning to his friends, as a wave of screaming darkness washed over them, swallowing the shrieking Arethe and Jakhan in an abyss of Black and Blue mana. Kaldros cried out, grief consuming his mind and threatening to burst past the barriers of control in his mind. He fought to keep it down, to save himself from a repeat of the battle with the Temur, but it was a losing battle.

"Yes, that's it!" Khemet hissed, "Lose control. Strike me down now!" he bellowed, stretching his arms out wide and filling the cavern with Jakhan's screams of terror. Mana swirled around the despairing Kaldros, and the rakshasa giggled maniacally, filling the boy's fracturing mind with thousands of images – some showed the past: Cerelis's pained howls as she gave birth to the albino, Carrok Warblade being cut down by a group of Temur warriors, Atasha shrieking desperately for help as she was devoured, and now Jakhan and Arethe being overwhelmed by the darkness.

"Drink deep of your despair, and use it to fuel your vengeance!" Khemet roared exultantly, feeling the titanic amounts of raw energy flowing out of Kaldros. The ground began to crack, fissures of burning blood wrenching the trembling cavern apart as the albino got to his feet, his face filled with pure hatred. Shining White mana flowed around his feet, as coruscating arcs of Red wrapped themselves round his arms. His eyes, once red and playful, were now orbs of the deepest midnight that reflected only thoughts of revenge, and tears of blood ran down his face.

"Now release your power!" Khemet shouted. Kaldros had far exceeded his expectations; the amount of power the boy had was astounding. The mage screamed, the sound a mixture of sorrow and rage, and leapt at the rakshasa. The demon grinned in triumph as the boy flew towards him. A flash of light erupted in between the two, and Arethe appeared in front of the stunned Khemet, the eyes on her palms flaring with White mana as she replicated a technique she had seen master Shintan use against a horde of Mardu raiders.

Jakhan teleported in with Arethe, and grabbed his brother, immediately stopping his charge as the magic around Kaldros faded away.

"Shhh, Kaldros, everything's fine – we're still here. Me and Arethe are fine. You don't have to do this alone," Jakhan soothed, hugging his smaller brother close – Kaldros was wracked with painful sobs, normally-coloured tears running down his face as Arethe blasted waves of light at the shocked Khemet.

"J-Jakhan?" Kaldros sobbed, and his brother nodded and put the boy down, steadying him as he almost fell over – the release of that much magic had taken a toll on Kaldros, although not as heavy a payment as two days ago. The younger twin shuddered for a few seconds and looked back up at Jakhan, the sadness in his red eyes now replaced with a fierce determination, although the tears were still falling down his face.

"Let's end this together," he spoke quietly, his voice was filled with a steely resolve, and Jakhan nodded again, hefting his glowing axe.

"How did you escape?" Khemet shrieked, anger and frustration turning his speech into a demonic snarl as his form blurred. None of the humans answered him, and they charged at him. Kaldros could still call upon some of the magical power he had felt earlier, but could control it, and flung luminescent bolts of light at the rakshasa that pierced through his void-guard. Hissing in pain, Khemet blocked a blast of elemental force coming from the Jeskai but was powerless to defend against a swipe from Jakhan's empowered axe. The enchanted metal bit into his skin and he screamed in anger, blasting the boy back with a mass of gibbering minor demons.

Arethe summoned chains of White and Blue mana and wrapped them around the rakshasa, who snarled and smashed them apart. A blade of white-hot mana stabbed into his left arm, holding him down as Jakhan swung again with his axe. The demons blocked one attack but couldn't defend against another sword strike, this one into his chest.

"Now you die, monster," Kaldros growled, twisting his conjured blade of tricolour Mardu magic deeper. Khemet laughed, a wet gurgling sound that made black liquid erupt from his mouth. Kaldros shouted in rage, letting go of his control for a split second; he released a gigantic amount of mana into his sword, exploding the rakshasa from the inside out. Khemet pushed him away and staggered backwards, screaming in pain as the burning mana coursed through him, blinding shafts of light erupting from his body and melting the golden armour into a puddle at his feet.

A voice spoke into his mind as the demon finally detonated in a sphere of incandescent light:

"_My offer still stands. You will know where to find me."_

Kaldros stood still for a few seconds, shaking and breathing heavily as the adrenaline of the battle wore off, and Jakhan clapped a large hand to his brother's shoulder.

"It's over," he sighed contentedly, and although Kaldros thought that **it** was only just beginning, he didn't want to ruin the exuberant mood. He must have been the only recipient of the demon's final mind-speak. Arethe and Jakhan both laughed, and the albino pushed the thoughts of Khemet's last words to the back of his mind – he would ruminate upon them further later, but right now he deserved to be happy, a small smile breaking out on his face.

"I hate to echo Khemet, but how did you get out of his spell?" Kaldros inquired, turning around to face his celebrating friends. His brother shrugged and pointed at Arethe, who playfully punched him in the shoulder and explained:

"Your brother's axe contained Bloodfire magic, which is the Jeskai term for Red mana. I remembered a technique that master Shintan used when working with efreet warriors – he combined their rage with his calm control to punch through reality. That let us get out of the void, although it took me a few tries to get it right."

"Wow," Kaldros replied, his thoughts interrupted as he heard a voice shout their names.

.*.*.*.

Iniedra and her soldiers had emerged into the cavern with the ziggurat, chasing down the wounded Vasjai. The naga was at the end of his tether, and when he felt Khemet's presence fade from Sarashak, he knew that the Sultai had lost.

"Stop, monster!" the Abzan mage cried, and the serpent shrugged, knowing that the takeover of Sarashak had failed. He slithered around to face his pursuers, smiling grimly, and let his weapons slowly clatter to the floor.

"I surrender," he declared, knowing that this was the only possible way to survive.

"You will be put on trial, Sultai dog, with the rest of your clan in this city and the councillors who let your decadence spread too far," Iniedra replied, and a few of her soldiers gave out weary cheers as a detachment was ordered by the mage to take Vasjai to the dungeons, instructing them to kill the naga if he tried anything remotely suspicious. Although he found it degrading to be subjected to the lesser creatures' sense of justice, Vasjai complied, thinking that at least he would have enough time to plot his vengeance.

Iniedra watched him leave, thinking of the changes the neutral city would have to undergo to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again. Reports were flooding in from other detachments of Abzan soldiers, the remaining Sultai still living had surrendered after the reanimating force driving the undead had mysteriously ended. She thought of the Mardu twins the spirit had spoken to her of, the enigmatic woman refusing to share any information other than that they were in danger.

She sighed wearily and sat down on the stone floor, not looking forward to the inevitable trials of the Sultai and corrupt noble families – Iniedra was happy that justice could be served to the Black-aligned clan members, but rooting out the guilty from the innocent in the council would be a tiresome task, full of court intrigue and lies. She had no patience for politics, finding the deceit and backstabbing extremely petty.

Iniedra got to her feet as the scouts she had sent into the tunnel returned, the two soldiers and Meja, who insisted that he go with them despite his condition, bringing another three battered teenagers with them – the Abzan recognised Kaldros and Jakhan from the spirit's descriptions. She sensed her soldiers' shock and moved towards them, shouting: "What happened?"

"Ma'am, I don't really know," one replied, while the other said, "I can't really describe it."

"Arethe, Jakhan and Kaldros here have saved our city from a Sultai rakshasa," Meja explained, a hint of jealously in his voice that he swiftly quashed, "But we need to seal that tunnel. Now."

"So I suppose we can thank you for saving Sarashak. But Meja, why would we seal the tunnel?" Iniedra asked, surprised at the boy's directness but slightly irritated at his lack of an explanation.

"Khemet, the demon that led the Sultai, wanted to use me as a sacrifice so they could reanimate a dragon corpse," the smaller albino boy stated coolly, neglecting to mention the true reason Khemet had been there, "Meja is suggesting that we close the tunnels, permanently this time, to prevent anyone from attempting that or something similar again."

The Abzan mage swallowed, agreeing with Meja's assessment – a dragon's power could easily tip the fragile balance of power in the direction of the Sultai.

"You must be Kaldros," Iniedra said, the younger twin looking confused as she turned towards the brawny teen that stood protectively next to him, "And that means you are Jakhan,"

"Oh! So you're Iniedra" Jakhan exclaimed, suddenly remembering the reason why he and Arethe had entered the tunnels in the first place, before becoming swept up in the Sultai scheme and being used as bait for his brother. His expression became downcast and he murmured: "Dragin didn't make it. He died trying to protect us when we were going to meet you and got ambushed,"

"I had assumed that had happened when I saw you. Dragin was brave, he would rather die than have his mission fail. At least he died an honourable death," Iniedra took the news of her adopted brother's death as calmly as all the others, refusing to be overwhelmed by the sense of loss she felt. She would mourn later, right now she had a duty to do.

"Is there something that I haven't been informed about?" Kaldros demanded in the brief moment of silence, as Meja began chatting with Arethe.

"My name is Iniedra, I am also a mage," the Abzan said, holding out her hand for Kaldros to shake. The boy took it, and she flinched as she felt the thrumming magical power inside of his small frame. "And I sent for you and your brother before this madness started. I have something important to show you."

Kaldros sensed a build up in the mana of the desert clan as Iniedra turned around and began performing a series of slow, ritual actions – he was eager to see what Abzan magic was like, having never experienced it first hand. Light was pulled in from the surroundings and onto the ground in front of the mage, who began chanting words from an ancient language. The twins shielded their eyes as the build-up of luminescence became too bright; it reached its peak in a flash of energy and slowly dispersed.

Kaldros opened his eyes first, and made to speak, but his words died as he saw the figure in front of him. Jakhan looked a split-second later, and joined his brother in open-mouthed shock as he regarded the apparition stood next to Iniedra.

The woman had a thin, seemingly fragile build, and wore a plain red-kimono that contrasted sharply with the golden hair spilling down her shoulders. Her pale skin was lit up by the light of Iniedra's magic, which gave the woman an insubstantial quality – which was perfectly logical, as she was a spirit, although the life in her amber eyes seemed to suggest otherwise. A tattoo of the Dragon's eye was on her right cheek, above a wide smile that shone with warmth. Even though the brother's had only met her once before, the woman's identity was achingly obvious.

"Hello, my sons," Cerelis smiled.

Jakhan reacted first, his eyes open wide in surprise. "M-Mum?" he stuttered, unable to comprehend the existence of his mother stood in front of him.

"Jakhan? My, you've grown, haven't you? Well, you both have," she exclaimed, her soft voice very similar to her youngest son's – she looked past at Kaldros, who stared blankly back. Tears started to well up in his eyes, and he was about to speak when Cerelis placed a finger to his lips – she couldn't actually touch him, but the gesture was all that mattered.

"Shhh, Kaldros, there is no need to apologise for anything," she soothed, sensing her son's intent before he started.

"But-"

"No buts," Cerelis declared, her voice becoming strict, "Stop blaming yourself for my death right now, young man." Kaldros fell to his knees, wracked with violent sobs, tears once again streaming freely down his pale cheeks. Jakhan squeezed his shoulders comfortingly, and their mother grinned at him.

"Sorry to interrupt, but why are you here?" Iniedra cut in, and Cerelis turned to face her.

"Several years ago, before Jakhan and Kaldros had even been born, I had a vision of these events. I had wanted to warn my sons before the rakshasa got a hold of them, and to that end I stored some of my magic here before I died. However, the demon got to them first, but it seems that they didn't even need my help - Jakhan managed to activate the enchantments on his father's axe. I thought it would be nice to see them at one point during their lives though," the Abzan mage nodded, satisfied with the explanation and walked away to discuss other matters with her soldiers, leaving the magic active.

"So, how is your father doing?" Cerelis asked cheerily, trying to lighten the mood. Both twins' eyes glazed over, and their mother sighed, instantly regretting the choice of words.

"Ah," she uttered, "So how did he die?" although she ideally wanted to avoid the topic of death and prevent the twins from getting even more sad, Cerelis wanted to know the fate of her love.

"He sacrificed himself to keep us alive after the battle that was our Blooding," Jakhan explained, "Although we haven't been Named yet, because we fled straight here. We would have all died if it weren't for my little brother. He halted the entire Temur army and let the surviving clan members flee."

"You mean after I slaughtered them? And stop calling me that," Kaldros snapped.

"You saved us, and I'll call you what I want," Jakhan shot back.

Cerelis began to laugh, the light, happy noise silencing the bickering brother.

"Do you always argue like this?" she chuckled, and the twins glared at each other.

"No," Jakhan replied, and Kaldros cut in.

"Yes. Jakhan seems to forget that I could fry him in a second," Kaldros stated, conjuring up a small flame for effect. Jakhan snorted and put his smaller brother in a head-lock, his muscular arm under Kaldros's neck.

"I'd crush you first, little brother," he said, roughly ruffling his twin's white hair as Kaldros tried to pull him off, his efforts useless against his stronger sibling. Jakhan let go when he started to cough, patting his younger brother on the back as once again he failed to remember their substantial strength difference. Kaldros gasped for breath and shot a murderous glare back at Jakhan, who raised his hands in apology.

Cerelis smirked, and spoke: "Let me guess – I bet you forgot your own strength?" she grinned wide as Jakhan nodded, slightly embarrassed as his mother continued, "Carrok used to say that all the time when we used to fight."

"You used to fight?" Jakhan asked, quite stunned at the thought.

"Obviously, you oaf," Kaldros scowled, and his brother shook his head.

"I apologise, we aren't all gifted with your powers of perception – would you like to explain?"

"Very good, a satirical response. You're learning!" Kaldros sniggered, and started to explain when he heard Jakhan's frustrated grunt, "As you can see, Mum is...was...is a Jeskai. That means that to meet our father, they must have fought at one point,"

"Don't antagonise your brother, Kaldros," Cerelis admonished. Kaldros stuck out his lower lip petulantly, and muttered, "So I get an: "Don't antagonise your brother" when I use light sarcasm, but Jakhan choking me doesn't warrant a response. I am quite done with this family," he joked, his tone full off fake indignation, and Cerelis laughed again.

"But yes, you are right – we met a few days after me and my father, who were patrolling the towns on the border together, found a destroyed village – after saving the orphans there, me and him split up. I went to face the army, but he didn't want to risk the orphans and took them on as students. When I pursued the army, your father stayed to confront me alone. We fought for a whole day straight, and fell in love. I abandoned the Jeskai Way to be with him. We were meant for each other, and to that end I joined the Mardu clan. Wow, that's really embarrassing when you think about it. Huh,"

"That's where I remember your magic from!" a voice exclaimed. The twins and their mother turned around as Arethe ran towards them, followed by a confused-looking Meja, "You were with master Shintan when he saved adopted us from our village!"

"And that means-" Kaldros gulped.

"Yes, Taleth Shintan is your grandfather – is he here?" Cerelis replied.

"He's attending clan business," Meja calmly told her, and Arethe turned to look at him.

"You don't seem very surprised,"

"I'm not. I worked it out the day we met them. That's kind of the reason I acted the way I did when he took them in, because I was jealous of the fact that they were master Shintan's real family, and I rashly thought he was going to leave us for them" Meja admitted.

"You're in good hands then," Cerelis beamed, and looked upwards, as if she saw something lurking in the shadows there.

"It seems my time is up," she stated, her exuberant demeanour immediately changing to one of regret, "I really wish that I could have spent more time with you, and raised you. And no Kaldros, it is not your fault, before you say anything and ruin this touching goodbye speech," Cerelis smirked.

"You are beautiful sons, and it makes me extremely happy to see you. I can finally leave now, and go join Carrok. I expect not to see you for many, many years," with that, she abruptly disappeared, the light giving her form fading away as her sons stood, watching her go.


	14. Chapter 14

Kaldros climbed out of the tunnels, glad to be finally out of the claustrophobic undercity – Iniedra had decided that all the non-essential passageways would be sealed shut to prevent anyone else taking residence there, away from the eyes of the law and free to do whatever they wanted. The work on the tunnels would begin tomorrow, but right now the populace of Sarashak were free to celebrate, mourn or relax, with inns and traders offering many discounts on their produce.

The albino stopped in the middle of the street, and breathed in the cool night air. He let his mind wander for a second, brushing through the thoughts and feelings of the citizens – he was no mind-reader, but could still sense the overall feel of the unique city. Sarashak was bustling with many different thoughts of happiness or sadness, but the one that seemed to be on everyone's mind was the feeling of relief.

Kaldros breathed heavily, letting a smile creep onto his face as he thought that even though he didn't know if Khemet had been slain or not, they had definitely helped save this city. His short reverie was interrupted when a hand shook his shoulder. Expecting his twin, Kaldros was slightly surprised to see Meja grinning down at him, Jakhan was talking cheerily with Arethe behind them.

"It's a great feeling, isn't it?" he talked, and the smaller boy nodded enthusiastically, "So, what do you want to do? The whole city is celebrating,"

Kaldros was about to say something when his stomach grumbled loudly, and Meja laughed and said, "We should probably get you something to eat. Arethe, Jakhan, me and Kaldros are going to the Food Quarter, coming?"

"Yeah! That sounds good! We haven't eaten since breakfast," Arethe announced energetically, and Jakhan muttered, "Do you not think you should put some clothes on, little brother?"

Kaldros went bright red, his cheeks burning in embarrassment as he remembered that he only wore his black underwear, and the three others laughed.

"B-but, I'm really hungry. The last time I ate was yesterday," he stuttered, trying not to go more red as he realised that he was almost naked in front of a girl. Kaldros had never really interacted with a member of the opposite sex, although to be fair he hadn't really talked to anyone his own age other than Jakhan, and now Meja, his brief friendship with Atasha the closest he had ever got to a girl.

Arethe, sensing his awkwardness, grabbed his thin forearm and yanked his across the street, saying, "Don't worry! I'll buy you some clothes, it won't take long."

"Hey! Wait up!" Jakhan shouted as Arethe ran off with his twin, sprinting to catch up with them. Meja shrugged and jogged after the three, wondering when master Shintan would return and how the twins would react to him knowing that he was their grandfather.

Arethe and Kaldros emerged onto a wide avenue, flanked either side with stalls hung with glowing paper lanterns parading a wide variety of fabrics. Curiously, some were left unattended, and when Kaldros saw a piece of fabric with a small Dragon's Fang embroidered onto it he assumed that it they must have been Sultai traders. He tried to ignore the peculiar glances some of the adults were giving him, instinctively trying to hide himself behind the taller Jeskai girl.

"Oh! Before I forget," Arethe suddenly exclaimed, pulling something out from a pouch at her waist. Her hand emerged, holding some mysterious looking herbs, and she put them on Kaldros's wounded shoulder.

"Ow!" he yelped, automatically pulling away, and Arethe held the squirming boy.

"Stand still," she ordered, and the albino obliged, trying not to think of what the image would look like to strangers. Arethe wrapped a soft cloth bandage around the herbs, and smiled in satisfaction.

"There! Doesn't that feel better?" she asked, and Kaldros nodded as Jakhan and Meja caught up with them.

"Stop running off," they admonished in unison, and then glared at each other. Kaldros rolled his eyes as the two teens began to size each other up and sighed condescending, deliberately very loudly and designed to get the boisterous boys' attention.

"Alright, alright. But he has it coming," Jakhan snapped, and Meja sniggered at him. Meanwhile, Arethe had been browsing through the clothes on sale at a store next to them, and emerged with a small blue tunic and a pair of brown trousers, coupled with some soft sandals. Kaldros thanked her and put the clothes on, they fit perfectly on his small frame, and he was grateful to be actually wearing something.

"Can we get something to eat now?" Jakhan asked impatiently, and the other three nodded as they made their way to the Food Quarter. Meja and Kaldros walked off, the older boy talking to the younger about the numerous different types of meal that could be purchased, laughing as the albino let out a muffled howl after tasting an extremely spicy vegetable.

"They seem to get on well," Arethe offered, trying to make a conversation with the silent Jakhan, who watched his twin brother intently, "Jakhan? Are you alright?"

"I was just thinking about my brother, how it's good to see him with a friend. He never got on with any other aspirants in our clan – Kaldros only really tolerated me because I was his twin," Jakhan replied, "But yeah. I'm fine. Let's get something to eat."

"Ok!" said Arethe enthusiastically, running up to a brightly-coloured stall selling fragrant meals that made Jakhan's mouth water. They sat down at a table and tucked in, the boy ravenously devouring huge mouthfuls of food as Arethe shook her head.

"Did your parents never teach you proper etiquette?" she laughed, before gasping and putting her hand over her mouth, "Sorry! I didn't-"

"It's alright," Jakhan mumbled between mouthfuls of the succulent meat. Arethe sat silently for a few seconds, slowly munching on a crispy pastry roll.

"So," Jakhan suddenly uttered, "Now that you've actually met him, how would you describe Kaldros?"

Arethe contemplated the question quietly for a moment, and then smiled.

"You're definitely going to disagree with me," she replied

"Tell me anyway."

"Cute." Arethe said. Jakhan's mouth visibly dropped open, and Arethe giggled. He visualised Kaldros, the small albino with the long hair and red eyes, and smiled.

"Yeah, I guess he is quite cute," Jakhan admitted, and turned around in surprise when a hand tapped him lightly on the back.

"Who is?" Kaldros inquired, looking down on his twin, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief, knowing that he had just broken into a private conversation.

"See? I told you so," Arethe declared, and Jakhan laughed. Vaguely miffed, the younger twin sat down on an unoccupied seat next to his brother, and joked:

"Well, Jakhan certainly didn't inherit any of the handsome beauty that I did,"

Jakhan pulled his smaller brother off the chair and into a choke-hold, his muscular arms wrapping around Kaldros's neck.

"You definitely didn't get any of our parents' strength, did you, my cute little brother?" he laughed as the albino scowled in annoyance. Jakhan made sure that this time he didn't squeeze hard but just held Kaldros in place instead, his twin's struggling achieving nothing.

"Gods, I just healed a bruise on Kaldros's neck. Please don't make another one!" Meja laughed, sitting down next to Arethe and chuckling.

Kaldros huffed and crossed his arms, giving up on trying to break free from his brother's embrace and sat on Jakhan's knee sulkily, casting a withering glance at Meja, who comically stifled his laughter.

"Aww, isn't my baby brother adorable when he's angry?" Jakhan teased, and the albino scowled, and spat, "I don't know how you've managed it, but "baby brother" is even more irritating than "little brother". We're the same fucking age,"

"Excuse me?" a small voice piped up, and the four turned to look at who had spoken, Jakhan dragging his smaller twin around with him. A young woman clad in brightly-coloured silks with her black hair tied up in intricate patterns holding a pen and paper glanced at each of them, Kaldros blushing bright red as she looked at him in his brother's grip. Her eyes lit up in recognition.

"Are you, are you the saviours?" the waitress asked, and Arethe spurted out the drink in her mouth.

"The..the "saviours"?" the Jeskai spluttered, and the woman nodded eagerly.

"Yes, you matched the soldiers' descriptions," she explained: "The Mardu brothers, the Winged Liberator, a small albino, the Warrior, muscular and protective of his little brother (Kaldros glowered at her and she quickly looked away), with the Jeskai Maiden,"

"So that's what they are calling us now," Kaldros idly mused, and his brother pulled him in closer, eliciting a gag from his twin as Jakhan's arm cut off his air as Meja pouted in mock anger as he realised he wasn't included.

"Wow, my baby brother is a Liberator now too! I'm so proud!" he sniggered, letting go of Kaldros when his face started to go red from lack of oxygen and he batted at Jakhan's arm.

"Thank you so much!" the woman cried, falling to her knees, tears of relief flooding down her face as Jakhan looked awkwardly back, "Thank you for saving our city!"

Arethe laughed, a light, tinkling sound that made the waitress smile, when Kaldros felt a familiar pressure at the back of his mind. He used the brief distraction of the waitress to slip away from the group, following his magical senses and darting off through the city. The three continued to converse with the woman, and the older twin noticed something missing.

"Where's Kaldros?" Jakhan asked suddenly, his voice becoming urgent as he looked around for his brother.

"He left a few minutes ago, had you been paying attention," Meja scolded, and the larger boy rounded on him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Jakhan demanded angrily, grabbing the Jeskai by his collar and hoisting him up. Quick as a flash, Meja kicked the back of the Mardu's legs, knocking him and the table over as Jakhan pulled the older teenager down with him. The waitress yelped in surprise and scampered back as Arethe stepped in between the two, blocking a punch from Jakhan and glaring at them both.

"What is wrong with you?" she shouted, attracting the attention of a few other customers, "We won! Why are you both so angry?"

"He could have told me that Kaldros was gone!" Jakhan snapped, and Meja sneered at him, replying: "If you had really cared, you would have noticed him leave,"

"Are you saying that I don't care about my own brother? Who the hell are you to make assumptions? You know nothing about us,"

"Oh yeah? You clearly don't know anything about him,"

"WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?" Arethe screamed, silencing the shouting teens and making everyone sat outside of the food stalls look over. Tears ran down her face and she ran off, heedless of the direction and with no destination in mind. Jakhan made to run after her as Meja grabbed his shoulder, holding him still.

"Give her some time alone," he suggested, and Jakhan turned on him.

"What did you mean when you said I don't care about Kaldros?" Jakhan asked, his voice full of smouldering anger and threat as he shook of the Jeskai's grip.

"He's terrified of you. Are you blind?" Meja snarled, and Jakhan looked back confused.

"No he isn't. Why would he be? I'm not that bad," he questioned, thinking back to the night after the battle two days ago, when he had almost strangled Kaldros to death. He still hated himself for that, but his twin had forgiven him and had seemed to forget about it.

"You must be stupid. Did you not see how scared he was after you choked him?"

"He seemed fine to me,"

"Not ten minutes ago, you idiot! When you nearly killed him after the battle!" Meja barked, and Jakhan's shoulders slumped.

"He was frightened just after it happened, but he's fine now! He forgave me!" he shouted, an image of his twin's oxygen-deprived and terror-stricken face appearing in his mind. True, Kaldros had been scared then, but he was alright now, Jakhan thought.

"Kaldros just acts alright because he doesn't want to worry you. How can you not see that? When I healed his throat, he started shaking. I don't even think he noticed, but he is definitely hiding his fear from you!"

Jakhan pictured the moment when his brother had starting laughing, and noticed that there was an undertone of fear in his voice, especially when he had spoken. He was just too angry to notice it then. Jakhan felt extremely guilty as Meja continued,

"Kaldros doesn't want to confront you about it because he is scared about how you'll react. I'll do it for him instead," Meja said, and Jakhan looked back ashamedly.

"Did he say that to you?" Jakhan asked remorsefully, trying to put himself in Kaldros's position – how it must have felt for him.

"No, but I inferred it from how he was acting," Meja said coldly, and then hissed, "How could you do that to your own younger brother?"

Jakhan didn't answer and looked down at his hands, thinking about what it would feel like to have them choking the life out of you, and the Jeskai exhaled angrily.

"I'm going to find Arethe, and then Kaldros. You needn't do anything, you'll just mess up the situation further. Go back to the inn," he stated, and ran down the avenue, gracefully leaping up onto a roof and looking around for signs of the two.

Jakhan stood still for a moment, consumed by regret. And then, he pushed it away, and replaced it with determination.

He would find Kaldros, and then he would apologise to him, make sure that his brother was alright, damn what Meja said.

.*.*.*.

Ethlashi laughed maniacally as she unleashed a wave of corrosive darkness onto the group of Mardu in front of her, ripping the flesh from their bones. She reanimated the skeletons and used them to rip apart their former comrades, the last men standing of the horde that had attacked her personal force.

The foolish Hordechief that had led them, an impetuous bitch who had challenged the naga to single combat, now stood next to Ethlashi, infused with dark energies and using the twin scythes she wielded to great effect. The woman, who had shouted her name at the Sultai (who hadn't bothered to remember it), never got a chance to utilise her enchanted blades, as the naga had laughed contemptuously and blasted the Mardu apart with Black magic.

The invasion into Mardu territory had gone so well that the Khan, Sidisi herself, would soon be arriving with a fresh legion of elite undead backed up by a whole coven of rakshasa led by Feyomsi. Perversely, in a clan filled with backstabbing and lies, the ruling class of naga actually respected their current Khan, as she had proven herself to be a ruthless and ambitious Khan. Of course, they still plotted against her, as if Sidisi was usurped then the next Khan deserved the position, but they didn't actively hate her or disrupt her rule.

Empathic vibrations slammed into her mind and she grimaced, pain flaring up in her head. Ethlashi laughed, earning a worried glance from Nazek, the lieutenant that had merged his army with hers, who turned away as the naga glared at him. _So, my brother has failed in his plan to take over Sarashak,_ she grinned, _Dear Vasjai was always so arrogant and impatient._

This was perfect! Her own success matched against her brother's failure would let her gain more favour with Sidisi, and thus become more powerful in the clan!


	15. Chapter 15

_For ease of reference, I have decided to post a brief timeline here._

_Day One – Chapter 1 to the beginning of 7._

_Day Two – Latter half of Chapter 7._

_Day Three – Chapter 8 onwards._

Sorin strolled casually through the streets of Sarashak, a banal magic trick concealing his glittering fangs and making him appear to the citizens as a simple traveller, instead of an immensely powerful planeswalker. To that end he also wore a drab brown robe that hid his armour and the blade at his waist.

He had found the tomb of Ugin, and what he had discovered had not surprised him, but left Sorin feeling slightly hollow. The spirit dragon was dead, and with the whereabouts of the Lithomancer unknown the vampire would be the only one of the three to face the Eldrazi again. However, there were other forces at work on Tarkir, other planeswalkers that had visited the plane. This would normally not concern the Lord of Innistrad, but the dark oracle that had told him the location of Ugin also warned that changes were soon to happen to the plane, changes that could alter the destiny of Tarkir and maybe the entire Multiverse.

The vampire had decided to stay on Tarkir so that he could observe these events – maybe they could change the fate of Ugin, or maybe offer something else to help in the fight against the Eldrazi, something to remove the feeling of crushing despair he felt. To that end, Sorin had travelled to Sarashak, sensing a dark and familiar presence hanging over the city. When he arrived, the force of the power had died down, but it was still there. Obviously the citizens had not yet realised this, as they were still celebrating.

Deciding to extract information, he had asked a few people about the events of the day – Sorin had learnt that apparently the Sultai, the clan of Tarkir primarily associated with Black man, had tried to take over the city, but their leader, a type of demon, had been slain by a group of three heroic children.

Sorin took a turn to the right and stepped into a large square that was curiously empty, surrounded on all sides by imposing walls of stone, banners placed on the top fluttering in the slight breeze. He turned around and cast his gaze in the direction of the human following him, who was now hiding out of sight behind the wall at the corner into the plaza. The vampire had sensed his pursuer twice over – first detecting their magical essence, then their scent. He could hear the beating of a small heart, pumping blood at a heightened rate through the human's body.

"How long were you intending to follow me before you said anything?" he asked, and heard the heartbeat quicken. Sorin unintentionally bared his fangs – he hadn't drunk in a long while, and this child would be easy prey – and quickly suppressed the feeling of hunger, annoyed that he had let it rise because of his frustration at finding Ugin dead and gone. The planeswalker heard the child take a deep breath and step into plain sight.

The vampire's golden eyes lit up in amused recognition when he saw the slight albino boy that had entered his meditations. He gave a small smile as he noticed the Avacyn's Collar pendant hanging around the child's pale throat, who look at him inquisitively, his red eyes showing fear and curiosity in equal measures.

"So, the pendant served you well?" Sorin asked, and the boy quickly removed the fear in his eyes, becoming guarded and alert and tricolour mana building up inside of him.

"How were you in my dreams, vampire?" he questioned, and the planeswalker tutted, humans were always so direct, impatient to the point of ridiculousness. However, Sorin couldn't blame them, he supposed that you had to do everything quickly when your time in the world was so short.

"Well?" the adolescent demanded, annoyed at the vampire ignoring him. Sorin shook his head and broke free of his silent contemplation, noticing how the shadows from the walls were thickening, and how the wind had stopped. He stepped forwards, suddenly appearing beside the boy, his right arm wrapped around his thin shoulders while the other pushed his chin upwards.

The child instinctively jumped back, but was held in place by the significantly stronger vampire who looked down into his frightened red eyes. The mana charge building up inside of him faded away, the boy clearly realising that trying to use a spell in his current situation would be too slow.

"What is your name, child?" Sorin inquired, keeping his voice level and calm instead of threatening. However, he now had complete control of the encounter, and would proceed at his own pace.

"K-Kaldros," he stuttered, fear and adrenaline making the blood course through his veins even faster. Sorin nodded, and let go of the shaking albino, who scampered away and flipped to his feet, magic once again spreading across his limbs and the terror in his eyes replaced with defiance.

"Well, young Kaldros, it seems we will soon have a visitor," Sorin declared, watching as a dome of gloomy Blue and Black mana trapped them in the square and stopped the flow of time outside of it. Kaldros watched with anticipation and the vampire observed with disdain as the darkness of the shadows coalesced into a figure in the middle of the plaza.

"Melodramatic as always, Sorin," the sinister silhouette purred, and the vampire scowled. His eyes opened wide as Kaldros opened his arms wide, a pillar of White surrounded by contrails of incandescent Red and midnight Black slammed from the heavens and into the figure, shocking the vampire with the amount of magic released and the speed of the reaction.

Kaldros panted with the effects of the spell as the pillar faded away, leaving a huge crater in the ground that burned with the after-effects of the mana.

"And dear Kaldros, how unexpected," it said in a sing-song voice, appearing behind the albino and tenderly stroking his soft white hair, " It has been so long. Lovely to see you again,"

The Mardu quickly pulled away, jumping backwards, and glared at the re-forming shape – golden armour, pale fur, and large, blade-like fangs.

"Khemet. It has been two hours," Kaldros snarled, unusual anger infusing his tone. The rakshasa pouted, mockingly saying: "What, no proper greeting? I am offended,"

The boy sensed the demon, but this time he felt different, more powerful and infinitely more terrifying. He stood next to Sorin, the lesser of two evils at the current moment, whose ancient power also started to rise to a vast level that made Kaldros's mind ache with its proximity. The vampire looked dismissively down at him, and snorted.

"Khemet? Is that the name you have invented for yourself in Tarkir, Bolas?"

The demon grinned and looked at Kaldros, who became rooted to the spot in fear, his eyes locked with those of the rakshasa.

"I have to admit, I have been lying to you. Khemet, as the vampire pointed out, is not my real name, just an identity I had stolen many years ago to advance my plans. I would like to properly introduce myself," the demon rose to his full height, and Kaldros saw that a change was occurring. Khemet's entire essence seemed to be shedding away, like an unwanted skin. Kaldros could feel an immense pain building up in his head, and fell to the ground, whimpering in agony. Suddenly, the form snapped back on, the torment relenting, and Khemet laughed malevolently – however his colours of mana swirling inside of the demon had changed – Black and Blue remained, while Green was replaced with Red. Kaldros held his hands to his head, trying not to seem pathetic and weak, and slowly got back to his feet

"But not yet. Not here. However, dear Kaldros, my true name is Nicol Bolas. And also, I am a dragon"

"Why are you here?" Sorin asked coolly, interrupting the planeswalker's dramatic speech, unimpressed by his display of power.

"Do you honestly expect me to reveal my plans to you? Changes will happen to Tarkir, as I'm sure you are already aware."

"I thought as much," Sorin smiled, and Nicol Bolas glared back.

"Enough pleasantries. Give me the boy. Now."

"And why would I do that?" the vampire replied, moving protectively in front of Kaldros. He hadn't yet assessed the boy's worth, but he must have been quite valuable if the Elder Dragon wanted him that badly.

"If you wish to share the same fate as Ugin, then please, continue getting in my way," Bolas growled, and Sorin registered with a start that the other planeswalker wasn't on Tarkir. That explained his reluctance to transform, and his uncharacteristic usage of simple threats. Had the dragon been here, he would have had no qualms about attempting to annihilate Sorin and forcefully taking Kaldros.

"The more you threaten me, the less inclined I am to let you have Kaldros," Sorin quipped, enjoying the look of absolute frustration on Bolas's artificial face. He continued, grabbing the shaking Kaldros around the back of his throat and dragging him closer, "In fact, I am quite tempted to drain him dry here, just to put a stop to your plans,"

Nicol Bolas's fake identity sneered disdainfully, but Sorin smiled charmingly back as the dragon snickered: "You don't have the stomach to murder children,"

Kaldros tried to speak, but with the vampire's hand clamped around his windpipe, the words wouldn't come out. His lungs were burning and his vision blurred as the air couldn't get in. Pulling desperately on Sorin's hand wasn't achieving anything, so the boy summoned a small flame of White and Red mana and raked it across the planeswalker's fingers.

Grunting in irritation, Sorin reflexively tightened his grip, making Kaldros thrash, and the vampire glared at him.

"Do not speak," Sorin whispered in a commanding voice, placing controlling power into the words to reinforce his point, loosening his hand and dropping the gasping albino who gulped air back into his lungs. Bolas watched, his stolen eyes lit with amusement as Kaldros breathed heavily and got to his feet, blue bruises appearing on his neck.

"I knew you didn't have it in you," the dragon in the body of the rakshasa scornfully dismissed the vampire, who glowered back, his golden eyes like burning stars.

"Anyway, Sorin, why do you resist? The boy means nothing to you, and you know full well that getting in my way has dire consequences. I thought you were a sensible planeswalker, part of the older generation like me, and currently I feel no apathy towards you. Give me no reason to revise my opinion, and hand Kaldros over."

"I would like to see you try and take him from me," Sorin taunted, drawing the Parasite Blade, the moonlight reflected by his armour finding no purchase on the dark steel. If Kaldros was so important to the elder dragon, then he must have already had contingency plans in place to secure the boy.

"I would have done already, if not for the child's obstinacy and the fact that he didn't just defeat or kill my physical form, he utterly obliterated it," the rakshasa purred, directing a malicious glance at the panting Kaldros.

Sorin was intrigued, obviously Nicol wanted the albino very much but was unable to claim the child himself – that meant he was on another plane, and would not be visiting Tarkir in some time.

As the millennia-old vampire would easily be able to deal with the dragon's agents, it gave him plenty of time to assess the worth of Kaldros – if he was able to help Sorin, then he would take the boy with him, while if not he would probably end up leaving him, maybe ending his life to prevent the other planeswalker from using him – he had to return to Zendikar soon, as Ugin was dead and the fate of Nahiri was unknown, leaving him to try and protect the Multiverse alone.

Bolas shrieked, the primal and ancient rage causing the ground to crack underneath him. Khemet/Bolas turned away in disgust, and slowly began to fade away, his form breaking apart into the shadows that made it.

"Very well, Sorin Markov, you have decided to cross my path. A very bad choice indeed. Dear Kaldros, I hope to see you again. My agents will come to collect you soon," the dragon hissed, leaving the two alone with those words as the essence of his false presence dissipated back into the formless shadows. The dome of magic disappeared, time resuming its original course and the refreshing wind picking back up.

"That was … Interesting," Kaldros voiced calmly, and Sorin looked down at the boy. The vampire had to admit that he was impressed – the adolescent didn't seem that shaken by the experience, and not many were able to keep sane in the presence of the elder dragon, although it was only a manifestation of his will.

The vampire snapped his head to the side, immediately noticing the existence of other pursuers. He had been distracted, first by the appearance of Kaldros, then by the conversation with Bolas that had frozen time. Now that he was out of the dome, his senses slowly flooded back to him, alerting him to the presence of more intruders.

Figures leapt and somersaulted down from nearby rooftops in an impressive display of athleticism and balance, landing gracefully on the plaza and surrounding the two. There was six of them, each wildly different but all sharing one unifying trait – somewhere on each of them, the Eye of the Dragon was emblazoned.

"Jeskai?" Kaldros exclaimed with a mixture of alarm and surprise, and Sorin stood behind him, swinging the midnight Parasite Blade in a warning arc. The Mardu face three of them, and held his hands in the air so that they wouldn't perceive him as a threat, adrenaline rushing through his veins as the survival instincts in his mind anticipated combat.

"Stay calm, Kaldros. We are not here for you," a deep, wise voice uttered, and the albino turned in shock at the one who had spoken his name. A tall and stocky djinn stared back, mistfire swirling calmly around him as the black but peaceful orbs of his eyes showed his pacifist intent.

"Agreed," a hissing voice spat, and the boy's eyes snapped round to look at a towering and spindly figure wearing a large robe that covered their entire body.

"Although, if you get in our way..." Kaldros gasped as the fabric ignited in a terrifying display of primeval and ancient flames, revealing an efreet that glowed with vivid bloodfire.

"Don't scare the boy, Qualina," a female voice admonished playfully, and he teenager finally examined the last of the Jeskai facing him. A relatively young-looking woman smiled back, and Kaldros was reminded of his meeting with the apparition of the twins' mother. "Oh, Cerelis? Me and her trained together at Sage-Eye stronghold when we were younger," Noticing Kaldros's distressed look, she winked and continued, wincing slightly as she felt barrier-like walls of mana slamming down and blocking her from the albino's mind, "Don't worry, I only read the surface thoughts, you would be able to feel it if I went further into your mind. I'm Orgae. Pleased to meet you,"

"Pffft, you are too soft," the efreet growled, "We didn't come here to make friends with the child,"

"Why did you come here, then?" Sorin snapped, his patience at an end after being forced to wait for the Jeskai to finish talking to Kaldros, who looked down embarrassedly. "Please tell me you three," he motioned with his sword, "Don't have to introduce yourselves as well. I want a good reason for you to be here, I am very hungry tonight. Test my patience and you may have to explain your presence here as a reanimated corpse."

"Sorin Markov," said one of the Jeskai, who seemed strangely familiar to Kaldros, a shaven haired man wearing a plain blue robe stepped forwards, and the addressed planeswalker turned swiftly towards him, "Your presence on Tarkir confirms our Khan's suspicions of change. She wishes to speak with you,"

"Oh, so is this the Narset girl I have been hearing about?" the vampire replied sardonically, a few of the Jeskai clearly stiffened at the obvious disrespect to their Khan. "And if I refuse?"

"We have been authorised to use deadly force," the djinn rumbled, and Sorin gave a disbelieving smile as Kaldros blinked in surprise.

"Please, you children wouldn't be able to defeat a lesser planeswalker – what makes you think you can take on a millennia old vampire?"

"We hoped that words would suffice, and that force would not be necessary," a shrouded aven interjected, and Sorin laughed, amused. Kaldros watched on, feeling the tension in the plaza rising and hoping that either the Jeskai would leave or that Sorin would accede to their suggestions, as the former watched stoically as the latter's chuckling echoed around the otherwise silent square.

As the vampire's laughter died down, he looked intently at who was presumably the leader of the group, the man who had presented their demands. He shot forwards, placing his blade to the man's neck, who didn't even flinch back from the life-draining metal or react to the threat.

"Very well, I will accept your offer. It will be interesting to know what the famed Narset knows. But know this – it will be on _my_ terms, and if any of you do anything to displease me, then you know what to expect," Satisfied, the vampire swiftly turned about and sheathed his sword, and the Jeskai walked towards the exit.

"We must make haste to Sage-Eye stronghold," the final member of the six spoke, an enigmatic female djinn with large, curling horns. Sorin nodded and made to leave with them, and on a whim he spun around to look at the boy. Kaldros looked slightly dejected, but most of all tired – the vampire supposed that it must have been quite an exhausting day for him, having to fight Bolas's avatar and then meeting the dragon again, only two hours later. In a rare moment of slightly awkward compassion, Sorin placed his gloved hand on the albino's head and ruffled his hair, and Kaldros grinned back.

"I guess I won't be seeing you again for a while," Kaldros muttered, and Sorin snorted, "Unless I appear in your dreams again. This time, you should actually try and to listen to me."

And with that, he left with the Jeskai. Kaldros was tempted to wave goodbye, but none of them were looking back and he thought that it would look childish so refrained from the gesture.

"Kaldros," a voice he had become accustomed to shouted, and Jakhan ran past the Jeskai and next to his twin, staring in bemusement as the departing figures.

"What was that all about?" he questioned, and his brother let out a long sigh. "Kaldros? What happened?" concern crept into Jakhan's tone as he noticed the purple marks on the smaller boy's throat – he thought that they had disappeared, but to be honest Jakhan had been focussing more on battling the Sultai than specific details of Kaldros's physical condition.

"Please, Jakhan, I'll tell you tomorrow," Kaldros pleaded, and his brother pulled him closer, worried by the fact that his fraternal twin was clearly upset and weary.

"Kaldros, I...I have something to ask you," Jakhan stuttered, trying not to frighten his brother as Meja's harsh words revolved around in his mind. Kaldros let out a long exhalation – he had been wondering when this moment would come, and he automatically massaged his bruised neck, which Jakhan took as a sign of hurt.

"Little brother, are you scared of me?" he whispered guiltily, horrified at what the answer may be. Kaldros sighed.

"Oh, of course I am. Not powerful and savage Temur, not malicious and undead Sultai, and certainly not manipulative and terrifying demons, oh no, I'm scared of the big bad Jakhan," he replied sarcastically, and Jakhan grabbed him around the shoulders.

"I want a serious answer,"

"I was attempting to use humour to lighten the situation. Obviously it failed to have the intended effect," Kaldros said in a deadpan voice.

"Answer the question, please," Jakhan begged, and his brother rolled his red eyes.

"I'm terrified, can't you see? I'm so scared right now, petrified of my twin brother."

"Please!" Jakhan shook him desperately, self-condemnation making him shudder as tears appeared at the corner of his brown eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm not fucking scared of you," Kaldros snapped, pushing away Jakhan's hands and shaking his head at his despairing larger twin, who looked back remorsefully. Kaldros hated to see his brother like this – it was why he hadn't made a big deal out of the incident, he knew it would reduce Jakhan to self-loathing.

"But...But I almost choked you to death," Jakhan said quietly, looking down at his powerful hands. Kaldros punched him in the face, the blow didn't hurt much but the action itself stung.

"Get a grip!" Kaldros ordered, glowering unsympathetically back at his crying brother, who placed a hand to the red welt on his cheek.

"Jakhan, please, I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for it. It was my fault,"

"But-"

"No, don't think about it. You apologised for it, and I accept your apology. Alright, I admit, I scared me more than I let on at the time, but think about all the times you've saved my life. For heaven's sake, you carried me for almost an entire day straight. Do you know what that shows me? It shows me you love me, and care a whole lot about your twin brother. And I care about you too. I don't like seeing you like this." Kaldros wiped the tears from his brother's cheek, and grinned charmingly at him. Jakhan stepped back and cleared his eyes, and gave a small smile back at the albino.

"See? Much better. Jakhan, I know that you beat yourself up for everything that you think you did wrong, but let me tell you this – I would not trade you for anyone else, you are the best big brother in the entire world," Kaldros smiled, and Jakhan pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, lifting the unhealthily-light boy off his feet and squeezing hard with his muscular arms. The younger twin coughed and thrashed, and Jakhan put him down, beaming at his brother and patting the gasping boy on the back.

"Although, I have to admit, sometimes I'm scared that one day you're going to kill me in one of those hugs" Kaldros joked, and his larger brother laughed happily. They started to walk back to the central avenue, and Jakhan ruffled his twin's soft hair.

"Thanks," he spoke, and Kaldros punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"For what? You'd have done the same for me. Just because I'm not clinging doesn't mean I can't be brotherly too. So, who was it that got you thinking about it?"

"What? N-no-one" Jakhan stammered, surprised as always at how his brother predicted things. Kaldros gave him an incredulous glance and said:

"I know you, brother. Your mind works incredibly slowly. Someone must have prompted you towards saying something,"

"I'm actually quite offended," Jakhan replied, slightly stung at Kaldros's insulting words.

"But I'm right, aren't I?" Kaldros inquired, and grinned triumphantly when Jakhan nodded.

"It was Meja," the larger boy admitted, "He said that he noticed you were scared, especially when he healed your throat. He said that I didn't care about you, and that you were frightened about confronting me over it,"

"The only reason I hid my fear from you is to avoid this," Kaldros sighed, and glanced forwards as he noticed Arethe and Meja running towards them. The former ran at Jakhan, who braced for an attack, and fell to his knees, pressing his face against the stone of the avenue.

"Please, Jakhan, accept my deepest apology!" he declared, and Jakhan lowered his guard, confused, as Kaldros burst out in giggling. Arethe had also calmed down, and stood next to the prostrating Meja.

Jakhan grabbed the slightly smaller boy's shoulders and hoisted him to his feet, looking him straight into his ashamed blue eyes.

"I forgive you, Meja, you were sort-of right anyway," he said, and Meja smiled, "Although I still hate you," Jakhan joked, and Meja pushed him away, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Let's get back to the tavern," Arethe suggested, stepping away from the group and starting to make her way there, "They are having a celebration evening, games and stuff. Should be fun, and it's getting late,"

.*.*.*.

Jakhan and Kaldros sat on one sofa whilst the two Jeskai faced them on another, playing a team-based board game on the table in front of them. They had returned to be greeted by the innkeeper and the customers, who recognised them from the stories circulating around the city. Kaldros had blushed self-consciously when the innkeeper had told him that in exchange for saving the city, he wouldn't charge extra fines for the damaging of property and that repairs had already been completed on the roof.

Jakhan puzzled over what to do on the twin's turn – the game was strategy based, and while his brother obviously had a plan, Kaldros hadn't shared it with his twin, leaving Jakhan to defend against Arethe's relentless assaults alone. The small albino suddenly snuggled up to his twin, and Jakhan accommodated by moving slightly and letting the boy's head rest on his muscled shoulder as he stroked his white hair.

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?" Meja said, and Arethe and Jakhan nodded.

"So, what do we do?" he asked his brother, looking down at him, and laughed when he realised that the drowsy Kaldros was already asleep on his shoulder.

"Aww," Arethe smiled, and Jakhan looked down at his twin, who seemed so peaceful when he was asleep – especially compared to his pained slumbers when he was suffering from Magical Deficiency. He was grateful for Kaldros's reassuring words, and hugged his brother close, waking him up.

"Wha-" Kaldros murmured sleepily, half-awake, Jakhan closed his eyes, making a soothing noise, and began to carry him to their room.


	16. Chapter 16

_S__orry about the long wait for this, but this will be the last chapter of Dragon's Blood for a while. There is another project, another story, that I have been thinking about and really want to start soon. I've literally not been able to think about Dragon's Blood because of that, and as such I feel like the story has became stale and slow, and I'm not enjoying writing about it right now. Instead of making something terrible and ruin the story, I'm instead going to start a new one, the one that I've been thinking about. Dragon's Blood __**will**__ return, and I'm not going to spoil it with half-assed writing because I can't focus properly on it. Sorry if it feels like I'm making excuses or being inconsistent, but this is my decision, and I'm going to stick with it. _

_Thanks to Foxtrot Agent 21, Artfuldemon, Jawaswag Jenkins, Supaflywriterguy for the support. A massive thank-you to Ulquiorra9000 for helping me out with the story, I really appreciate you showing me the ropes and all the help and reviews. The story of Kaldros and Jakhan will continue in the future, but right now expect my new story to be coming out soon._

_Sight_ Blood was the first thing he noticed. The blood covered everything, drenching the large room in crimson fluid that ran down the walls, _Touch_ making the wood feel slick under his fingers. As his vision and touch returned, so did the _Smell_ disgusting reek of death that clogged his nostrils and made him want to vomit. _Taste _As he gagged, he realised that his mouth was open – claret liquid was pouring into his mouth, and he choked, the blood running past his tongue and down his throat.

He thrashed, trying to block the unrelenting flow of gore with his hands, but they were tied behind his back, forced around a post of wood that was also soaked in vital fluids. The blood stopped, and he panted for breath. He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and looked down, his naked flesh covered in violent slices that had strange pieces of machinery stuck into the skin. As he saw his wounds, the agony increased, as if responding to his sight of the atrocities wreaked upon his body. He looked up, but the torment remained, and came face to face with a beetle-like thing with malicious eyes that seemed to revel in his torture. It had a huge proboscis that dripped with scarlet ichor, and he soon discovered that he was behind fed his own blood.

As he came to this conclusion, the thing rammed the proboscis into his mouth and began squirting the blood it extracted from the wounds in his chest. He retched as the liquid began to drown him, the machine holding his mouth open with large pincer-claws that cut his lips, adding to the vile torrent. He struggled violently, which somehow seemed to increase the amount of blood pouring down his throat. The flow stopped, allowing him to breath again.

_Sound_ The final sense awoke, and he was assaulted by a barrage of noises, his own pained breathing and terrified whimpers, the slurping noise of the pipes stuck into his chest. The worst sound was a constant whirring that sounded like some sort of insect but with a metallic tone to it, and he assumed that the machine in front of him was making it.

He breathed heavily, trying to assess the situation but finding all of his thoughts slipping away. He needed to focus, to try and escape, but all he could think of was when the machine would choke him with his own blood again, and the perpetual buzz filling the room. Panic filled his mind – _how can I make it stop? Why is it doing this? Why am I here? Who..who am I?_ The pitch of the whirring increased, and so did its intensity, creating a horrifying screech that pierced through his thoughts.

He screamed, shrieking and crying, as the malevolent creature pulled forwards, grabbing hold of his mouth and forcing it open.

.*.*.*.

"Kaldros! Kaldros!" a voiced shouted, "Wake up!"

He shook with barely repressed shudders of pure terror, still screaming, his throat raw. Large hands pulled his closer to a figure sat beside him, and he thrashed desperately, trying to get away, trying to prevent further pain. The red receded from his vision, the agony in his chest faded away, but the shrieking screech of the torture-machine still remained. He clawed and bit, and the large figure grunted, blood spurting out of a wound in his arm.

He could feel energy building up in him – something he could use to stop the pain, silence the screeching whirring that cut through his mind. Defiance replaced fear, and he let the power flow through him. Sensing the danger, the figure quickly yanked him over as light bled out of his skin. Strong arms locked against his throat, and the feeling of power he had felt for a moment soon sank back, swamped by a sea of terror.

He didn't want this to happen. He wanted to breathe, to destroy the thing before it started to choke him, but as his confidence fled, so too did the power welling up inside of him. He yelled, bawled and screamed, kicking his legs violently and writhing against the hold the attacker had on him. The arms refused to budge, although they were restricting his movements more than his breathing, and he realised that he would die here. _I don't even know who I am! I don't want to die! _He thought, tears falling down his face as he howled loudly, hopelessly trying to break free, escape the horror, as the whirring continued, slowly driving him insane.

"Sorry, little brother," the voice said regretfully, and the arms clamped down, cutting of his air. He pleaded silently, darkness crowding the edges of his vision, as he slipped into unconscious. His struggling weakened, not resigning himself to his fate as the arms squeezed harder. The screeching finally stopped.

.*.*.*.

Arethe burst into the room, Meja following quickly, shouting: "Are you two alright? What's going on?" They saw Jakhan, a worried look plastered on his face, his younger brother laying still in his arms, tears running down both their faces.

"Jakhan? What happened?" Arethe questioned, as she heard movement and shouts from the rooms below them, as Meja took the unmoving Kaldros from his twin.

"I...I don't know," Jakhan panted, and Arethe noticed several teeth and nail marks on his arms, "I think he had a nightmare, he was screaming in the bed next to me so I tried to wake him up, and he attacked me,"

He explained quickly, scared by the experience, "He didn't know what was going on – he's never tried to hurt me before. He was acting like I was about to kill him. I wasn't going to hurt him, I knew that he wouldn't be able to do much trying to attack me, but when he started to use magic, I had to knock him out,"

"Lets hope you didn't hurt him much," Meja interjected snarkily, and Arethe shot him a fiery glance as he checked for a pulse. Kaldros was breathing, very lightly, and his heart thudded slowly.

"Jakhan, everything is going to be alright," she soothed reassuringly, sitting down next to the adrenaline-fuelled boy and putting her arm round his large shoulders, "You did the right thing. Kaldros wouldn't want to hurt you, or other people, and if he was using his magic beyond his control he would have wanted you to do that to."

"He always gets hurt. I can't protect him, most of the time it's me who is causing him pain anyway," Jakhan said bitterly, moving over to where Meja shook his unresponsive brother. He tenderly stroked Kaldros's silver hair, his brother looked so fragile and thin compared to him. It was strange to see the gentle and composed albino so desperate and violent, although Jakhan supposed that he had been in worse states – in the battle with the Temur, and then the one with Khemet.

Kaldros's eyes snapped open, and he sat up, coughing and spluttering as Meja held him still. His red orbs were filled with confusion – he could still remember the dream, the two terrifying halves of it still resounding in his mind. He looked questioningly at Jakhan, who couldn't meet his gaze and stared as the ground guiltily. Kaldros massaged his pale throat, and then realisation clicked in his mind.

"Oh. And I was making such great progress with him," Kaldros stated, his voice detached and utterly unconcerned by his ordeal. He walked over to Jakhan, shaking slightly, and embraced his twin in a hug. Jakhan remembered his brother's words from the night before and smiled, knowing that Kaldros didn't want him to feel guilty.

Pulling himself away, Kaldros inquired, "So that last part was real?" and Jakhan nodded sadly, asking, "Are you ok?"

He repeated the question when his brother's attention drifted for a moment – Kaldros snapped back into reality and he grinned enthusiastically at his fraternal twin. Puzzled, Jakhan questioned: "So you're not scared by anything that just happened? You thought I was going to kill you a few minutes ago!"

"Yeah, well, that was a few minutes ago," Kaldros dismissed, lightly shoving his brother away: "This is a great opportunity, and I am not going to waste it wallowing in sadness,"

The other three in the room looked confusedly at him, Meja making a motion with his arms indicating that the albino should elaborate.

"The last time I had a dream so vivid, so memorable, it led me to Sorin," he smiled, and then blinked in belated realisation as his explanation didn't seem to have any effect, "Oh. I should probably tell you about what happened last night,"

"That would help," Jakhan said, playfully punching his brother on the arm.


End file.
